The Game of Life
by mojoco
Summary: Sequel to "The Game of the Century."
1. Not Like This

Disclaimer: "Alias" is not mine, it belongs to JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions.

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The Game of Life

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Sequel to "The Game of the Century"

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Chapter One: Not Like This

Sydney Vaughn paused at the door to her mother's office, taking a deep breath before knocking. "It's Sydney!" she called.

"Please come in, darling," her mother responded.

Sydney walked through the door, a smile spreading across her face in spite of itself at the sight of the eight-year-old boy seated across from her mother, paging through a comic book. "Hi, honey," she said.

"Hi, Mom," he responded with a half-smile. He had his daddy's green eyes; they took her by surprise every time he looked at her. "Is Emily okay?" he asked, naming his four-year-old sister.

"She's fine, sweetheart," Sydney said, ruffling the boy's hair. He hated when she did that, but she could never seem to resist. "She can't wait to see you. She and your dad are outside in the car, why don't you go wait with them while I talk to your grandma?"

"Okay," he said with a shrug, stuffing the comic book into his backpack. "Bye, Grandma."

"Come give me a hug," Irina said, and Sydney watched as he made his way around the desk to hug her mother, feeling an odd mixture of happiness and repulsion at the sight. Irina was so sure that Jack Vaughn would follow in his mother's footsteps and run the Organization one day. The thing was, Sydney was sure of the same thing. She just wasn't as happy about it as Irina was.

"Tell your father I'll just be a minute," Sydney instructed as Jack moved past her to the door.

"Okay!" he called over his shoulder.

"He's an angel," Irina said, staring after her grandson with a fond smile.

"With you, maybe," Sydney said, a half-smile spreading over her own face. "At home, he's a hellion."

"You and Michael are too hard on him," Irina chided.

"Maybe." It was a conversation the two had had countless times before. "We just don't know what to do with him. He's brilliant, but he's always in trouble at school. He won't do his homework unless Michael stands over his shoulder--"

"He's just trying to get a little attention for himself, darling," Irina told her gently. "You and Michael are wrapped up with Emily so much of the time--"

"We're doing the best we can," Sydney interrupted, her voice soft.

"I know you are, sweetheart," Irina said, offering her a sympathetic smile. "So Emily's okay?"

"Yes," Sydney said, rubbing her temples tiredly. Emily suffered from a severe form of asthma; they had rushed her to the hospital the night before after a serious attack. "She gave us quite a scare, though."

"I can see that," Irina said with a frown. "Sydney, you look awful. When's the last time you had a full night's sleep?"

"I don't remember," Sydney admitted, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. Between work-- she and Michael were practically running the Organization, now that Irina was thinking about retiring in the next few years-- and the children, she felt as if there was rarely a moment she could relax.

"Your hands are shaking again," Irina observed with a frown. "You should think about seeing my doctor. Taking something to calm your nerves."

"I saw him, and he prescribed something, and it makes me into an utter zombie," Sydney responded. "I have to stay alert in case Emily needs me."

"You should take a vacation," Irina suggested. "Just you and Michael. I'm sure Mrs. Simmons would stay with the children," she said, naming the woman Sydney employed as a nanny.

"Maybe." Her mother owned a number of sumptuous vacation homes in various spots around the world; the thought of escaping to one with Michael sounded like Heaven, only-- "I just get so worried about Emily, and I don't feel like we spend enough time with Jack anyway--" she sighed. "But maybe." She stood, kissing her mother's cheek. "I should go. Thanks so much for looking after Jack, Mrs. Simmons had a few days off."

"My pleasure, sweetheart," Irina said with a smile. "Take care of yourself and that gorgeous husband of yours. Try and get some sleep."

"I'll try," Sydney promised. "What time is the meeting tomorrow, again?"

"Nine a.m.," Irina said with a frown. "But darling, are you sure you're feeling up to it? I can run things, if you'd like."

"I'll be fine," Sydney said, running a hand back through her hair. "I want to have a word with Sark, he's been behaving atrociously lately."

"Well, you've cut his duties to practically nothing, Sydney," Irina said with a disapproving frown.

"I'll give him more responsibility when I feel he deserves it," Sydney snapped, then instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry, Mother. I'm just so tired."

"It's perfectly understandable, dear," her mother said with a sympathetic smile.

Sydney nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow." She turned to leave the room, making her way out of her mother's headquarters and to the Mercedes waiting across the street.

"I'm sorry I took so long," she apologized, climbing into the passenger seat and turning to kiss her husband on the cheek. A glance over her shoulder showed her Emily, dozing in the backseat. "What an angel," she said, smiling at Michael. "Was she asleep the whole time I was inside?"

"Mm-hmm," Michael said, turning to gaze at his sleeping daughter. "Poor little girl, she had a rough night."

Sydney turned her attention to her son, who paged through the same comic book he'd read in Irina's office. "Jack, you have to put that away and start your homework as soon as we get home."

"I know, I know," he grumbled.

Sydney turned around to settle herself in her seat, and Michael reached over to smooth her hair with his hand. "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice too low for the children to hear.

"I'm fine," she said, attempting a smile. He leaned over to kiss the top of her head before starting the car.

Sure, she was fine. Except this wasn't the way their lives were supposed to be. They were supposed to be taking down her mother's organization, not running it. Not living in a house and driving a car that the Organization paid for.

The thing was? When she looked back over the past ten years, she couldn't pinpoint a single moment that she would have played out differently. And now she was in so deep, she wasn't sure she could ever get out.

She wasn't sure she even wanted to.


	2. Just A Game

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Chapter Two: Just A Game

Sydney stood in her bathroom that night, slipping into her favorite satiny nightgown, the one Michael had given her for their first anniversary. It was beautiful-- sexy, without being sleazy. The man had amazing taste.

He appeared behind her then, moving her hair aside to kiss her neck. "The kids are in bed."

"Good," Sydney said with a nod. "Emily's feeling all right?"

"She's fine, sweetheart."

"What about Jack? Did you check his homework?"

"Yeah." Michael rolled his eyes. "He got all his math problems right, but it took him twice as long as it should have to finish them because he kept asking if he could read his comic book for just a few minutes. I'd say we should tell your mother to stop buying him those things, but then I don't think he'd read at all."

Sydney sighed, running a hand back through her hair as she started back to their bedroom. "What does it matter, Michael?" she asked. "It's not like he's ever going to use his genius IQ to cure cancer or perform brain surgery. He's going to grow up to be just like us, do just what we do."

"Don't say that," Michael said, green eyes full of pain.

"Why not, Michael?" she countered. "It's the truth."

They looked at each other for a long uncomfortable moment. Michael still liked to believe that their eyes were still on the prize, that they would still bring down the Organization one day. Sydney knew better. Sometimes she allowed herself to think that when she had full control, when Irina had retired, she could start using the Organization to do good instead of evil, but really, how and why would she do that? They were making so damned much money now.

And sometimes she thought she could just step down, leave the day to day operations of the Organization to someone else and escape with Michael and the children to a lovely little island somewhere. But Irina would never allow that, and anyway, no one could run the Organization as well as she could. No. Sydney would not have a moment's peace until Jack was ready to take over, and that wouldn't be for another fifteen, twenty years. She was trapped. Period. She supposed she might as well start enjoying the fact that she was good at being the leader of an international crime syndicate, because that was all she was ever going to be.

She turned to Michael then, smiling sadly at him. "You're still the only thing in my life that's real."

"No," he said, moving towards her and putting his hands on her waist. "Our children. We're not exactly hiding anything from them."

"Only because we're raising them in this fucked-up parallel universe where they're taught that the Organization is a wonderful thing," Sydney said, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. Their son attended a school where he and his classmates did not just learn reading, writing, and arithmetic. They were being trained to be employees of the Organization. The ones who weren't so bright would be Sydney and Michael's hired henchmen, and the best and the brightest would run the Organization when the two of them were ready to retire. Jack would run it when they were ready to retire, and not just because he was brilliant. Because he was the son of Sydney and Michael Vaughn, the most powerful leaders the Organization had ever known.

"I know all this, Sydney." The pain in Michael's eyes was practically enough to break her heart. Why was she hurting him like this?

"I know you do," she said, sitting down on the bed with a sigh. "I'm sorry, darling. All of this is just starting to get to me." They'd given Irina the last ten years of their lives. Sydney supposed it had been a fair trade. Thanks to Irina, she'd had the opportunity to be with Michael, to marry him and have his children, to give those children anything they wanted. But at what cost, really?

Michael sat next to her on the bed, placing his hands on her shoulders. "We should take a vacation."

Sydney smiled. "My mother recommended one, actually."

"I really think you could use one," Michael said.

Sydney smiled, resting her head on the shoulder. "What about you, Michael?" she asked tenderly. Time after time, she had to remind herself that this was not just happening to her. She was not the only one under her mother's thumb, not the only one with a sick child, not the only one who had made dozens of choices to get them where they were today.

But so often, that was easy to forget. Especially when it was so easy just to let him hold her, and tell her everything was going to be okay. Because she knew that he honestly thought that it would be.

"You know," she said, bringing up something she'd thought about often lately. "We have enough information to turn my mother in to the US government tomorrow if we wanted to." The only thing was, they were in so deep, she didn't know if they could escape prosecution themselves. And then she and Michael would be sent to prison, someone else would raise their kids, there would be no Organization for Jack to run when he got older, there was no escape, never an escape…

Michael must have been thinking the same thing, because he grew tense beside her. "Do you want to?"

Sydney shrugged. "Not really."

He turned to her and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Maybe we should just go to sleep."

She nodded. It was early, but she was so very, very tired. Who knew, maybe she'd actually be able to get a decent night's sleep for once.

When Sydney had started this, she had thought it was all a game. She'd been willing to play by her mother's rules, as long as she knew she was keeping her own agenda in mind. Yes. This was just a game, that was all it was.

She had just never expected to lose so spectacularly.


	3. Mornings Like This

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Chapter Three: Mornings Like This

The alarm went off at six-thirty the next morning, and Sydney listened as Michael hit the snooze button with a groan. That was something new-- they were both usually up before the alarm. They had both just been so exhausted the night before.

"Syd, can you get the kids up?" Michael mumbled.

"Can't you do it?" Sydney snuggled deeper under the covers. She hadn't slept so well in a long time.

"Ah, Syd. I put them to bed last night," Michael said drowsily.

"But you're so good at it." But Sydney was basically awake by then, and she punctuated her sentence with a giggle. "Okay, I'll do it," she said, sitting up and leaning over him to plant kiss after kiss on his cheeks, his forehead, his neck. If she didn't get to sleep, he didn't neither. "But just because you get the shower first doesn't mean you get to use up all the hot water, you got it?"

"No promises," he responded, a lazy smile spreading over his face as he opened his eyes to gaze up at her. "Anyway, you've got it easy. Emily's not going to preschool today, so you just have to wake Jack."

"But Jack's the hard one," Sydney pointed out. "I'm surprised Emily's not up and in here already."

"Well, she had a rough couple of days," Michael reminded her.

"I know," Sydney said, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. Even first thing in the morning, her husband was gorgeous. "Poor little darling."

"She's a tough girl," Michael commented. "Just like her mommy." He drew her down for a long, luxurious kiss.

She smiled at him after they'd parted. "Michael, I think we should take that vacation."

"Really?" Michael said, face lighting up.

"Really," she said, giving him a soft kiss. "We don't have to be gone that long. We could leave Thursday and come back Monday."

"This coming Thursday?" Michael's eyebrows shot practically to the ceiling. It was Friday already. "Do you think Mrs. Simmons would stay on such short notice?"

"Well, if not, I'll bet my mother would," Sydney said, and Michael grimaced. "She is their grandmother."

"Yes, I know," Michael said. He frowned, but his expression quickly brightened. "Well, I think a vacation sounds great, Syd. Where do you want to go?"

"I can't decide," Sydney said, snuggling up next to him. "The Riviera, maybe. Or St. Bart's."

"Sounds like Heaven," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"Mmm, it does, doesn't it?" She turned to kiss him on the lips. Their kisses escalated until she finally had to put a stop to things. "Emily could wander in her at any minute."

"I'm sure she's still sound asleep," Michael said, nuzzling her neck.

"Mommy! Daddy!" A tiny voice called.

Michael rolled his eyes, and Sydney laughed gently. "Save it for tonight, tiger," she teased, dropping one last kiss on his lips before rising from the bed. "I'll be right there, darling!" she called to her daughter. She located her bathrobe and threw it on over her nightgown. "What's your plan for today, Michael?"

"Meetings," he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "All day. You?"

"The big meeting with all of you this morning," Sydney said. "And I wanted to talk to Sark, but after that, maybe I can get the arrangements made for our trip."

"Sounds good," Michael said, climbing out of bed and heading for the shower.

Sydney smiled and started down the hall to her daughter's room. Sure enough, the little girl was awake, sitting up in bed and playing with a pair of dolls. "Good morning, sweetheart," she said, kissing the little girl's cheek. She really was a beautiful little thing, with her daddy's sandy brown hair and her mother's brown eyes. Jack was the opposite, though just as gorgeous-- dark hair and his daddy's startling green eyes.

"Morning, Mommy," Emily said, throwing her arms around her mother's neck.

"How are you feeling this morning, darling?" Sydney asked, smoothing Emily's hair back from her face.

"I feel good, Mommy."

"Good girl." Sydney kissed her forehead and rose from the bed. "Do you want me to help you get dressed before Mrs. Simmons comes?"

"Yes," Emily said with a nod.

"Good," Sydney said. "Why don't you get up and help me pick out your clothes?"

Sydney helped her daughter dress, then she led her down the hall to Jack's room. Emily was the only one who could get Jack out of bed with a smile on his face. Sydney knew that Jack must have felt resentful sometimes at all the attention she and Michael paid Emily. But she knew he loved his little sister. She watched, smiling, as Emily approached her brother's bed and tried to shake him awake.

On mornings like this, Sydney could pretend that her life was almost normal. That she hadn't become something she despised. She had Michael and the children. That was all that was important.

It wasn't much more than an hour later that she and Michael were kissing Emily goodbye and urging Jack into the car. They would drop him off at school on their way to work.

"So," Jack said, once they'd started the car. "What do you guys do at work?"

Sydney and Michael were not startled by the question. He'd asked similar ones before. "You know what we do, darling," Sydney said, gazing out the window. "We work for the Organization. Same as all of your friends' parents."

"Yeah," Michael said, catching Jack's eye in the rearview mirror and winking at him. "Except your mom's Vice President, so she gets to tell everyone what to do when your grandma doesn't feel like it."

Jack seemed to like this idea. "Will I be Vice President someday?"

"Yes," Sydney said without hesitation. "And when your grandma retires, I'll be President, and when I retire, you will be."

Michael frowned at her, then glanced at his son in the rearview mirror. "You can be whatever you want to be, buddy."

Sydney glanced in the rearview mirror to see Jack gazing at his father intently. "What did you want to be when you were my age, Dad?"

Out of the corner of her eye Sydney saw Michael wince, though it was hard to tell he was doing so because of the sunglasses he wore. "I wanted to do what my father did," he murmured, as he pulled the car up in front of Jack's school. "Have a good day, son."

"I will." Jack leaned in to the front seat to kiss their cheeks before scrambling out of the car.

"Wait for Mrs. Simmons out front right after school," Sydney called after him.

"Okay!" he responded.

When Sydney turned her attention to Michael, she found him glaring at her.

"What?" she asked, though she knew very well what.

"You really think there's still going to be an Organization for him to run by the time he's old enough?" he demanded.

Sydney smiled sweetly. There were times when Michael's naively hopeful view of what they were going to accomplish made her feel hopeful, too; there were other times it made her feel sad for him. Just now she found his entire attitude maddening. "Of course there will be, darling," she said, patting his cheek. "We're running it. And we're the best at what we do."

He just sat there, glaring at her. She only smiled in response.

"Do start the car, Michael," she said, pushing her sunglasses atop her head. "We don't want to keep my mother waiting."

Michael started the car and pulled it out into traffic. They didn't speak the rest of the way to Irina's headquarters. 

When they arrived, Michael let Sydney out and went to park the car. She scrambled up the front stairs, knowing her mother would want a word with her before the meeting started.

"Oh, good, Sydney, you're here," Irina said, greeting her with a welcoming smile. "Where's Michael?"

"Parking the car."

Irina must have picked up something in her tone, because she frowned in response. "You two aren't fighting, are you?"

"We were just discussing Jack's future," Sydney said, shaking her head.

"Ah." Sydney was thankful her mother let it drop at that. "Well, soon you'll be discussing your own. I have an exciting announcement to make at the meeting today."

"What is it?" Sydney asked, and uneasy feeling rising in the pit of her stomach. Her mother had talked about retiring for some time now; she had thought Sydney ready to take over for the last five years or so, but then Emily had come along, and with one thing or another, she kept putting it off. Could today be the day? Sydney closed her eyes briefly and remembered a dream she'd had some ten years before, one where her mother had announced it was time to hand over the keys of her kingdom to her. Michael had sat by her side, smiling. At the time, she'd found the dream utterly disturbing. Now, it didn't seem so unrealistic.

"You'll find out soon enough," Irina said, patting Sydney's cheek reassuringly. "Let's head to the conference room, shall we, darling?"

"Sure," Sydney said uneasily. "Oh. I meant to tell you, Mother, Michael and I have decided to get away for a few days. Next Thursday, if you don't need me here."

"I think a vacation's a great idea," Irina said with a smile. "Have you thought about where you'll go? Paris is lovely this time of year."

"Yes, I know," Sydney returned her smile. "But that's not quite what we had in mind. All I want is to lie on a beach somewhere."

"Well, that sounds lovely, darling," Irina said. "Sydney, before we go to the meeting, there's something I'd like to say to you."

Sydney looked at her mother expectantly.

"You've done a lovely job working for me this past decade. I just want you to know how proud I am of the woman you've become."

Sydney pasted a smile on her face. Wasn't that something all women wanted to hear from their mothers? She had to admit, there was part of her that liked hearing it, too.

And a bigger part that felt her blood run cold at the sound of her mother's approval.

"Thank you, Mother," she managed, her voice barely audible.

Irina smiled in response. "Let's go to the meeting, dear."

Sydney followed her mother down the hall to the conference room, where a dozen of the Organization's more powerful members milled around, chatting and sipping coffee. Michael was already there, but Sydney didn't try to catch his eye. Maybe her mother's announcement would be good for him. Maybe when Irina named Sydney as her successor, Michael would finally be able to be realistic about what their future held.

"If everyone would take their seats," Irina called. Everyone obediently got into place, with Irina at the head of the table and Sydney and Michael at either side.

"I'm going to turn this meeting over to my daughter in a minute," Irina said, patting Sydney's hand. "But first I have an announcement to make."

It was only then that Michael looked at Sydney, a question in his eyes. Sydney shook her head slightly, almost imperceptibly.

"Next week my daughter and her husband will take a vacation," Irina continued. "When she returns, she will officially begin her reign as president of this organization. I'm retiring, as I've threatened to do for so long."

A low murmur ran down the long conference table. Sydney didn't make eye contact with anyone. She couldn't.

"I trust you'll give my daughter the respect and courtesy you've afforded me all these years," Irina continued. "And Sydney, I hope you'll accept this honor, and my congratulations."

Sydney still couldn't bring herself to look at anyone, even Michael. Except her mother. "Of course I will," she managed to say. "Thank you so much, Mother."

She and her mother rose from their chairs, and the rest of the table followed suit. Irina reached out to hug her, and the rest of the table erupted into applause. 

And Sydney couldn't help it. She smiled. Not a fake smile for her mother's benefit.

A real smile. 


	4. At This Stage of the Game

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Chapter Four: At This Stage of the Game

The man stood across the street from the elementary school, casually dragging on a cigarette. He hadn't smoked back when they'd known him. He hadn't had dark hair and a moustache, either, nor had he ever dressed so casually in their presence. Of course, if they were to see him up close, they'd still recognize him. But if someone they knew-- say, their son-- told them they'd seen him, they wouldn't be sure who he was. That was the plan. The point of the disguise.

He had planned what would be his first encounter with Jack Vaughn carefully. Timing was of the utmost importance. The ideal meeting would take place right after the boy was let out of school. But his nanny almost always picked him up right on time, and sometimes, one of his parents even left work early to take him home. Having one of them see him at this stage of the game would be disastrous.

So, he had arranged for two of his co-workers to have a little traffic accident. Nothing too major-- just enough that little Jack's nanny would have to take a little detour on her way to pick him up from school, earning the man a few valuable minutes of time. He had other employees watching-- watching the Vaughn home to make sure the nanny didn't leave early to run errands, thus taking a different route. Watching the organization headquarters to make sure Mr. or Mrs. Vaughn didn't leave early to pick up their son.

At three o'clock, though, the man had received no word of complications, and little Jack stood on the sidewalk, looking for his nanny's car. The man recognized him from the picture one of his co-workers had taken as the Vaughn family had arrived home the night before. The truth was, he would have recognized him anyway, anywhere, even if he hadn't known of his existence. The boy looked so much like his father.

And so he made his approach, on a day he had not picked out of thin air. When his contact inside the Organization had called that morning and told him that Irina Derevko had officially announced that Sydney Vaughn was taking over, he had sprung into action.

"Hello, Jack," he said to the boy.

The boy eyed him warily. "How do you know my name?" Good. His parents had taught him to be careful of strangers. He shouldn't have expected any less from Sydney and Michael Vaughn. Except the events of the past ten years had led him to believe that the Sydney and Michael that now existed were quite different from the Sydney and Michael he'd once known.

Unless he'd been completely wrong about them all along. Unless he'd been as completely fooled by them as he'd been by Irina Derevko so many years before.

"Your parents are famous," he said in response to the boy's question. "Or notorious, anyway."

"What's the difference?" the boy asked with a frown.

"Never mind." The man shook his head. "They run the Organization, is that right?"

"No," the boy said slowly, as if unsure how much he should reveal. "My grandma does."

"Well," the man told him. "I hear your mother's going to be taking over very soon."

"Really?"

The look of pride on the boy's face made the man's course of action clear. What could his mother have possibly told him to instill any sense of pride in him about what she did? What was he being taught in that school of his? He was no doubt being brainwashed, lobotomized. Being raised as an heir to the Derevko throne.

Well, the man would be damned if he would let that happen. He didn't know why Sydney had done what she'd done. Best case scenario, she'd started out with an agenda, good intentions, only to find she was in over her head. Worst case scenario, she wasn't the woman he thought she was. Either way, he swore to God he was going to put a stop to it, before the chaos she had stepped into filtered down to another generation.

Or his name wasn't Jack Bristow. 


	5. Making His Own Game Plan

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Chapter Five: Making His Own Game Plan

Jack Bristow slid into the front seat of his car, switching on the listening device. Little Jack Vaughn didn't know it, but a bug had just been dropped into the front pocket of his shirt. Should he find it, he would think it was merely a pen cap; actually, it was capable of picking up any human voice in any room he should enter. Jack knew he couldn't expect to retrieve too much information with the bug. For all he knew, little Jack would change out of his school clothes as soon as he got home and the device would lie abandoned on the laundry room floor. What he hoped, though, was that the boy would keep it on until it was time for him to go to bed, and that he'd spend at least some time that evening in the same room with his parents.

He knew planting the device had been a rather risky measure, but he didn't feel as if he had a choice. He was just hoping to gain some insight into what, precisely, his daughter was doing at the Organization before he decided on his next step. Learning the other team's plays before making his own game plan, if you will.

He started the car and began driving, searching for a deserted road where he could sit and listen all night, if need be, without attracting attention. As he drove, he kept an ear on the noise his listening device was picking up. Nothing spectacular. Little Jack talking to his nanny and his little sister.

"I got sent to the office today," the boy announced. "Mom and Dad have to sign a note. Dad's going to kill me."

Jack smiled as he found a suitable place to park, listening to his grandson describe the prank he had pulled that had gotten him in trouble. The kid sounded like a piece of work.

Entertaining though it was listening to the grandchildren he'd never met tell stories, after awhile he became a little bored. He had been sitting there for more than two hours before he heard a voice that made his ears perk up.

Sydney's.

She entered the living room, or whatever room Jack and Emily were playing in, chatting with the nanny. 

"We plan to be gone five days," she was saying.

"It's just such short notice, Mrs. Vaughn," the nanny responded.

"I understand that, Mrs. Simmons, and I apologize." Jack closed his eyes and tried to picture his daughter as she looked right then. He had seen photographs, and he knew she dressed more expensively now, that she was looking-- well, more like her mother each day. The thought didn't make him happy, but he had seen so much of Irina in her even before. "But Michael and I really do need to get away, and you'll be well compensated for your time."

"Oh, I know I will be, Mrs. Vaughn, I just--"

"You and Dad are going on a vacation, Mom?" Jack cut in.

"Yes, darling," Sydney said. "I understand if you need time to think it over, Mrs. Simmons--"

"Can I come?" Jack interrupted.

"No, sweetie, you have school," Sydney told him. "Mrs. Simmons--"

"That's no fair!" Jack Bristow smiled, imagining Sydney's irritation. "You and Dad get to miss work."

"Jack, I promise we'll take you and Emily somewhere this summer, okay?"

"Fine," little Jack grumbled. His grandfather could picture him folding his arms in front of him and pouting. It was what Sydney had always done when she didn't get her way.

"Mrs. Simmons, please think about it," Sydney continued. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know your decision soon. If you can't stay, perhaps my mother can."

Jack winced at the idea of Irina alone with the children. Surely the thought must have disturbed Sydney as well.

"I'll call and let you know tomorrow, Mrs. Vaughn."

"Thank you. I trust Mrs. Patterson was here earlier?" Who was Mrs. Patterson?

"Yes, ma'am. She left dinner warming in the oven." Ah. The housekeeper or cook, apparently.

"Good. And has my husband called?"

"No, ma'am."

"Oh."

Jack frowned. There was disappointment in his daughter's voice, laced with-- what? Worry? Regret? Both?

"Didn't you two drive to work together this morning?" Mrs. Simmons asked.

"Yes, but he had late meetings, so I left him the car and had my mother's driver bring me home." Sydney's voice grew quiet, and Jack's frown deepened. What was going on between Sydney and Michael? He wondered precisely what her reaction had been when Irina had named her as her successor. He had asked his contact, but to no avail: "You know Mrs. Vaughn would never let me attend such an important meeting." He could have done without the sarcastic tone, but what were you going to do?

He heard Sydney dismiss Mrs. Simmons and turn her attention to her son. "How was school today, Jack?"

"I got in trouble. You or Dad have to sign a note."

"Jack! What did you do?"

Jack Bristow rubbed his temples in frustration. Again, this was amusing, but getting him nowhere.

But still he waited. Waited while Sydney called the office to see where Michael was: "Is my husband still in? No? No, he's not answering his cell. Yes, will you tell him to call his wife if you see him?" Waited while Sydney and the children had dinner. Waited while Sydney left the room to draw Emily's bath, leaving him with the sound of whatever horrible sitcom little Jack was watching. He panicked a little then-- what if Jack took a bath, too? Would the listening device be relegated to some clothes hamper? Damn it, he hadn't even heard so much as the word "Organization" in all of his hours of listening.

But he didn't have to worry. Precisely as Sydney brought Emily downstairs, Michael came home.

"Daddy!" the little girl cried. Jack picked up the picture of the family coming home the night before. If little Jack looked just like his father, Emily was her mother.

"Hey, princess." Jack smiled, picturing Michael sweeping the little girl into his arms. "How's daddy's little girl?"

"You usually call if you're going to be so late, Michael." Sydney. Quiet, sad, accusing.

"I know." Michael's voice, not so different. "I'm sorry."

A long silence between the two. Jack only wished he could hear the volumes their eyes must have been speaking to each other.

Finally Michael broke the silence, his voice so low it was barely audible. "So I guess congratulations are in order."

"Michael--"

"Why, Dad?" Little Jack. Of course.

"Your mother didn't tell you?" Jack could picture Michael staring at his wife even while addressing his son. "She's taking over the Organization. Your grandma's retiring."

"Wow, really, Mom?" Jack winced at the excitement in the boy's voice. He instinctively suspected that Michael wanted to do the same thing. "That's great."

"Thank you, darling." Jack hated the tone of his daughter's voice. Drained. Defeated.

"Daddy, will you help me with my puzzle?" Emily asked.

"Have your brother help you, sweetheart." Jack was sure the kids moved to another part of the room then, but luckily he could still pick up Michael and Sydney's voices.

"Michael, about this morning--"

"Don't apologize," Michael said. Such bitterness in his voice. Anger. "You think I'm being naïve about what our future holds. I get that. I got that last night."

"Yes," Sydney admitted. "But the way I threw it in your face this morning was cruel."

"It was," Michael agreed. His voice still held the same quietly contained anger. "But I guess I should be glad you're not humoring me anymore, huh?"

"Michael--"

"Sydney, please, let's not do this now. I'll just say something I'm going to regret."

Jack heard Sydney choke back a sob. "Michael, I love you."

Michael took his time answering. "I love you too, Sydney." The pain in his voice was almost a tangible thing. "I'm just not sure I know who you are anymore."

Jack was glad when Michael turned his attention to getting the children ready for bed. It meant the bug left the room, left Sydney.

It meant Jack didn't have to listen to his daughter cry. 


	6. Where's Your Heart Now?

****

Chapter Six: Where's Your Heart Now?

Sydney rolled over in bed the next morning, smiling sadly at her sleeping husband. She'd cried herself to sleep the night before, and he'd rubbed her back, an action that had nearly broken her heart. He loved her. Even if he didn't like her so much just then.

She leaned over to kiss his forehead, and his eyes fluttered open. "Hey," she whispered, smoothing his hair back.

"Hey." He didn't smile at her, but he didn't get up and walk away, either. "Did you sleep well?"

"Not really," she said truthfully. "You?"

"Not really."

They lay there in silence for a moment, not touching.

"So you're really going to do this?" he asked. "Run the Organization?"

"Yeah," she said, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him. She knew her words hurt him, but she wasn't willing to delude him anymore-- humor him, like he'd said the night before. "I really am."

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again. "Syd, I just think--"

"Don't start, Michael," she interrupted with a sigh. It was time for him to accept that things were the way they were. There was no escape. Never an escape.

"No, just hear me out," he insisted. "Sydney, you're in charge of the Organization now. Maybe you can't take it down, but you can change it. You can use it to do whatever you want."

"Oh, Michael, I--"

"Like bring down SD-6," he interrupted. "Syd, you can do that. You have the resources to do that."

"I know," Sydney said, eyes brimming with tears. She'd thought about that sometimes. Sending in a mole, like she had been. Slowly but surely breaking down their defenses. She'd thought about it, but something had always stopped her. Maybe it hadn't seemed important enough to her anymore. "I just--"

"Just what? Sydney, this beaten attitude of yours-- it isn't like you," Michael said, green eyes full of fire. "SD-6 is still up and running. The Alliance is stronger than ever. The same would be true even if we were still with the CIA, Sydney, but I can guarantee if we were back there, you'd still be in there fighting."

"I know," Sydney whispered, a single tear escaping down her cheek. That was true. Back in the CIA, she'd never have given up hope that she'd bring SD-6 down. As long as Michael was by her side.

"What I want to know is, what happened to that girl with the crazy red hair who stormed into the CIA ready to take on the world? The girl who sat in that blood drive van and told me she'd hand me SD-6 by Christmas?"

"I don't know, Michael," she said tiredly, standing and walking to the vanity table mirror. She looked so old all of a sudden. So tired. And actually, she did know. That girl had grown up. Her handler had gotten kicked out of the CIA, and she'd followed him. Talked him into joining her mother's Organization with the promise that someday they'd watch it crumble. Watched as that dream turned to rubbish. Watched as she became someone she despised. "I was naïve then. I didn't understand a lot of things."

"No, you didn't," Michael agreed. "But your heart was in the right place, Sydney. Where is it now?"

Sydney turned and walked back to the bed, touching her husband's cheek tenderly. It was a good question. One she didn't feel quite prepared to answer. "You always thought I was capable of doing anything."

"You are," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "Now go do it."

She smiled. If he wanted her to, she would. She'd do anything he asked. Maybe the problem was that for the past ten years, she'd been the one doing all of the asking. Maybe that was where they'd gotten off track. "Will you help me?"

He pulled her down to him and kissed her lips. "Of course I'll help you."

Sydney perched on the bed, smiling down at him, feeling better than she had in a long time. This was the way they worked, her and Michael. She was always afraid she'd drag him down with her. Sometimes she did. But he always pulled her back up.

"What's your plan for today, baby?" she whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"Oh," he said, a smile crossing his face. "I told Jack I'd take him to the park, that we'd shoot some baskets. Want to come?"

"No thanks," she responded. "But do you mind taking Emily with you, too? I want to do some shopping, buy some new clothes for our trip."

"Sure, no problem," Michael replied, sitting up and running a hand back through his hair.

"Take a coloring book or something to keep her occupied," Sydney advised. "Or she'll be under your feet the whole time."

"Got it," Michael said, leaning over to kiss her before standing and heading for the shower. "Maybe we can do something tonight, take the kids to a movie. Or we could rent one, and I could make dinner."

"Sound good," she said, rising from the bed. "Go ahead and take your shower, I'll get the kids up."

"Oh, let them sleep, there's no hurry," Michael said. "You should go back to sleep, too."

"Maybe," she agreed, lying back on the bed as he headed for the shower. Maybe things really would be okay. She and Michael would go on their trip, and when they came back, they could start working on their plan to bring down SD-6 and the Alliance.

The Vaughn family got around slowly that morning. Sydney made pancakes and they sat around the kitchen table; she and Michael read the paper while Jack teased his sister and drowned his pancakes in syrup. Sydney thought it felt wonderful. Normal. Domestic.

Michael helped her with the dishes, then kissed her goodbye before leaving with the kids. She took a long, luxurious shower and dressed, humming to herself as she got behind the wheel of her car--

--And felt the nose of a gun press into her temple.

"Drive."

Sydney should have been scared, and part of her was. Except she'd have known that voice anywhere, even after ten years.

"Daddy?"


	7. Play It Cool

****

Chapter Six: Play It Cool

Sydney stood by the side of the deserted road, thinking wildly that if her father left her for dead in this location, no one would ever find her. Michael would go crazy searching for her, never giving up even as the situation became completely hopeless. He'd be so caught up with his search that eventually someone would decide their children were better off with Irina, who would raise them as her perfect little puppets, pushing little Jack toward the throne in record time so that, in Sydney's absence and Michael's hysteria, she could finally retire.

But Sydney told herself that such thoughts were crazy. She had no reason to believe that her father would kill her. Except, of course, for the fact that he'd just forced her to drive nearly fifty miles out of town at gunpoint.

It was only now, now that he had taken her car keys from her and put his gun back in his holster, that she dared to ask what he wanted.

"What I want, Mrs. Vaughn--" She winced. He'd addressed her a few times along the way, and he'd never called her Sydney, always Mrs. Vaughn. Cold. Impersonal. "--is to let you know what your options are."

Sydney took a deep breath. She could do this. She wasn't the emotional wreck she had been ten years ago. She could play this as coolly and emotionlessly as he could. He was not her father right now, she could not let him be her father right now. He was just a man who had dragged her out to the middle of nowhere at gunpoint.

"Fine," she told him, crossing her arms in front of her. "I'm quite curious to hear what you think my options are."

"The CIA knows that you and Mr. Vaughn joined forces with Irina Derevko willingly, as does Arvin Sloane."

"That old bastard's still alive?" Sydney muttered.

"Please don't patronize me," Jack snapped. "I know damned good and well that you're every bit as familiar with the Alliance's activities as the Alliance is with yours."

Sydney couldn't help it. She gasped. She had never thought of Sloane watching her, of the CIA thinking of her as a traitor. She hadn't thought of anyone at all, really, except Michael, herself, and the children.

"Some small part of me has believed, all these years, that you infiltrated Derevko's organization with an agenda, and that somewhere along the line you realized you were in over your head."

Sydney willed herself not to cry, not to scream out, "Yes! That's exactly what happened! We wanted so badly to take them down, but we were so unprepared, and now there's no way we can ever get out!" Of course she said none of that. She just took a deep breath and listened to her father speak.

"The CIA is entertaining that possibility. That's why they've allowed me to make you aware of your options."

Sydney looked at him, a question in her eyes.

"Sydney--"

Sydney's eyes widened at the sound of her first name.

"--we know that over the past few years Irina has gradually increased your responsibility, and that a week from Tuesday, when you and Michael return from your vacation, she will place full control of the Organization in your hands. The question we've asked ourselves is why."

"There are a lot of reasons," Sydney said, struggling to keep her voice even. "She wants to retire, for one."

"Sydney, the CIA has been gathering intel on the Derevko Organization, working to bring it down. We believe your mother knows this, and that after you've been firmly established as leader, she will come to the CIA with a deal. She'll offer us the Organization, offer us you, in exchange for her own freedom."

Sydney closed her eyes. No no no no no. This wasn't happening. Wasn't possible.

"We're prepared to offer you a deal, Mrs. Vaughn."

Sydney looked up at her father. So now she was Mrs. Vaughn again.

"I'd like you and your husband to go ahead and take your vacation. But when you return, the two of you are not to go back to work at Derevko's office. You will turn yourself into the CIA and tell us everything you know about the Organization. If you do so, I'll do my best to see that you don't serve any time."

"You'll do your best? Dad, that's not good enough," Sydney gasped. So much for keeping her emotions out of this.

"Sydney." Jack placed a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him in surprise. "You know how good my best is."

Sydney looked at him. Her eyes were full of tears, but her voice was full of steel. "What if I don't take your deal?"

Jack snatched his hand away as quickly as if he had been burned. "If you take control of the Organization a week from Tuesday, the CIA will officially consider you an enemy of the United States. When we get enough information to bring down the Organization, you will bear the full weight of our punishment, and let me assure you, it will be heavy."

Sydney couldn't help it. She began to cry.

"It may take us months to gather that information, it may take years. You might not even be the leader of the Organization anymore. It might be your son, or your lovely little daughter. It might be a grandchild that doesn't even exist yet. You'll never know. You'll just be waiting, every day, for the other shoe to drop. And that's assuming that our suspicions about your mother are incorrect, and she's not ready to throw you at our mercy."

A black car pulled up as if out of nowhere, and Jack tossed her the keys to her Mercedes. "Think it over, Mrs. Vaughn. Discuss it with your husband." He moved to open the passenger door of the black car. "Your actions a week from Tuesday will tell us your decision."

He climbed into the car and it pulled away, leaving Sydney at the side of the road.


	8. Breakdown

****

Chapter Eight: Breakdown

Sydney took a deep breath as she pulled her car into the driveway. She couldn't say she was terribly happy to see Michael's car parked in the space beside it. He had been in such a good mood when he'd left the house that morning. She hated to be the one to ruin that.

She moved her hand to the door handle, stopping short when she realized how badly her hands were shaking. She had to get a hold of herself. That was all there was to it. 

So she forced herself out of the car, forced herself to walk through the front door and call, "Michael?"

"We're downstairs, honey!" Great. Downstairs. That meant they were playing ping-pong or Michael was teaching Jack to play pool. No doubt they were having a great time. A great time that would end precisely the moment Sydney appeared at the bottom of the stairs and opened her mouth.

She walked down the stairs to find her family gathered around the ping-pong table, just as she had predicted. Apparently, it was Michael versus Jack and Emily, though she was sure Emily wasn't doing much more than standing there holding a paddle. She wasn't even tall enough to see over the table. Sydney would have found the sight adorable, under normal circumstances.

"Hi, sweetheart," Michael said, looking away from the game to smile at her. "Did you get a lot of shopping done?"

"Ha!" Jack crowed, as his oblivious father failed to return his serve. "We win!"

"Hey, no fair, Jack, I wasn't paying attention." Sydney smiled in spite of herself. Michael sounded just like a little kid. He was so competitive.

Most days, she would have joined them then, wrapped her arms around Michael and teased him a little. She would have suggested they start a new game and insisted that Jack be on her team. That day, though, she stood rooted to the bottom of the stairs. Frozen.

"Michael, we need to talk," she said, her voice soft.

As hard as she was trying to keep her face expressionless, she must not have been terribly successful. "What's wrong, Mom?" Jack asked, green eyes full of concern.

She shook her head. "Everything's fine, honey, I just--" To her horror, she felt her voice break, and she knew the tears were on their way.

Her beautiful family. That morning, she'd felt so sure things were going to work out for them. And while her children's futures hadn't necessarily been set in stone, she'd felt sure, at least, that she and Michael would be there for them. Be able to give them anything they needed or wanted, be able to keep them safe. Her father had taken that certainty away.

Her sweet little Jack. Now that she thought about it, the time right after he was born was probably among the best of Sydney's entire life. She remembered how Michael had climbed into her hospital bed with her while she held their new son. The two of them had spent hours, just staring at the perfect little child they'd created.

They'd been so happy.

Things had been different when Emily was born. Sydney had gone into labor six weeks early. She'd lost so much blood giving birth, and the baby had been so tiny; the doctor had been unsure whether either mother or child would survive. Sydney realized now how lost and confused little Jack must have felt then. His mommy had left to have a baby and not come back for what must have seemed like forever. Michael had gone home to him whenever he could, but he'd been so reluctant to leave Sydney's side. So reluctant to leave their little baby. It hadn't been long before it was clear that Sydney would be fine, but it took them awhile to be sure about Emily, and when they were finally allowed to take her home, it had seemed like such a miracle. Sydney and Michael had vowed that they would take extra special care of their precious little girl. And they had.

Sydney looked at both of her children then, the two of them blurring under her teary gaze. What if she and Michael weren't able to keep them safe? Suppose she and Michael did go to the CIA. Who was to say the government would ever be successful in taking Irina into custody? Who was to say she wouldn't snatch up Jack and Emily and hide them away somewhere? 

The what-ifs were too much for Sydney to bear. She found herself unable to stand, dropping down to sit on the bottom stair. "Jack, honey," she said, voice so full of fear and worry it frightened even her. "You know how much I love you, don't you?"

"Yes, Mom." Jack's eyes were as wide as saucers. He clearly didn't know how to deal with a mother who wasn't cool and in control.

"And Emily," she said, turning her attention to her daughter. "Mommy loves you no matter what, okay?"

"Okay, Mommy." Even little Emily sounded scared.

Well, she should have been scared. Sydney had been on the planet more than three decades longer than she had, and she was absolutely terrified.

"Sydney, what happened?" Oh, Michael. Her gorgeous husband. He was so good to her, so good to their children. She loved him so much.

"Michael, please." He was at her side by the time she began to cry. She knew she had to pull herself together and tell him what her father had told her. He'd know the right thing to do.

"Shh, honey, don't cry, I can't stand it when you cry," he soothed. He raised his voice to say, "Jack, buddy, take your sister upstairs."

Yes, Jack, take her upstairs, Sydney added silently. Your mother's scaring her. Your mother's scaring all of us.

"Sydney, honey, tell me what's wrong."

Sydney looked at him, taking a deep breath as she willed the right words to come. She wiped the tears from her eyes with the heel of her hand. And she calmly, rationally told him everything her father had told her that morning.

And then she fainted. 


	9. Beautiful Oblivion

****

Chapter Nine: Beautiful Oblivion

Sydney woke on the leather couch in the game room to the sound of faint voices at the top of the stairs. Probably Michael and the children, she figured. But no. After a moment's consideration she decided that the voice that conversed with Michael was distinctively adult. And female.

The voices stopped abruptly, giving way to the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and suddenly Michael was at her side. "Syd, honey," he said, green eyes full of relief. "Good, you're awake."

"Oh, Michael." She felt a sudden rush of happiness at the sight of him. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Of course I'm here, honey," he said. She sat up and he settled down next to her, kissing the top of her head.

Sydney sighed, snuggling up against him. "Who were you talking to up there?"

"Oh," Michael said casually. "Your mother's here."

Sydney jumped up, eyes wild. "What?!"

"Sydney--"

"Michael," Sydney hissed, horrified. "Did you call her?"

"Sydney! Of course not." Michael rolled his eyes. "She just stopped by. I haven't told her anything," he added, voice low. "I just said you were feeling a bit under the weather when you got home from shopping and that you dozed off on the couch while the children and I were playing."

"The kids," Sydney gasped. "Michael, where--"

"They're upstairs, watching a movie," Michael said calmly. "Your mother was going to go talk to them while I checked on you."

"My mother!" Sydney cried. "Michael, we can't let them out of our sight, we--"

"Shh, Sydney," Michael said, standing and putting a finger to her lips, his other hand moving comfortingly up and down her left arm. "You need to calm down. She doesn't know anything, all right?"

"Oh, Michael." Sydney felt ready to burst into tears, or worse, ready to pass out again. Her hands were shaking. Much as she knew she had to get a hold of herself, she couldn't seem to do it. "Don't you understand? She knows everything. _Everything_."

"You're not thinking rationally, Sydney." Michael's voice was so comforting, so soothing. All she wanted to do was bury herself in his arms and never come out. "You and I have a lot to talk about, a lot of decisions to make, but not now, okay? You have got to talk to your mother, and you have to act like nothing's wrong, okay?"

"I don't know if I can." Sydney hated feeling so weak, so powerless. Maybe that was why she hadn't minded the idea of running the Organization so much. If she couldn't control her own fate, at least she could control the fates of others.

"Of course you can, baby," Michael said, kissing her forehead. "Now sit back down, okay? I'll go get your mother. The sooner you talk to her, the sooner she'll leave."

"Okay," Sydney whispered. Of course she'd do what she was told. She could scarcely remember a time in the past ten years when she had been given an order she hadn't followed.

She had just settled herself onto the couch when Michael returned with her mother.

"There you are, darling," Irina said, moving toward her to kiss her cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Mom," Sydney said, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Just tired."

"Poor darling." Her mother sat beside her on the couch, wrapping an arm around her. In spite of herself, Sydney felt her head dropping to her mother's shoulder. "Maybe you should think about taking one of those pills my doctor prescribed."

"That's not necessary," Sydney said, her mind reminding her that she needed to stay alert even as her body ached to slip into the beautiful oblivion she knew the pills would provide.

"Well," Irina said, giving her shoulder a comforting pat before rising from the couch. "At least let me take the children off your hands for the night."

"No," Sydney said, a little too quickly. "They'll be fine right here."

Irina raised one eyebrow in a silent question. "Are you sure? I could take them with me, leave your gorgeous husband with nothing to do but pamper you," she said, squeezing Michael's shoulder. Sydney noticed that Michael didn't flinch in response to her touch. When had he stopped doing that?

"I'm sure, Mom, but thank you," Sydney forced herself to say.

"All right," Irina said with a nod. "Michael, you'll take good care of her, won't you?"

"Of course, Irina." Normally, Sydney would have been pleased and a little amused by the convincingly warm smile Michael gave her mother. That day, it made her skin crawl.

"Good." Irina let her hand linger on Michael's shoulder a moment longer than Sydney thought necessary before starting towards the stairway.

"Mom!" Sydney called after her.

Irina turned back to her daughter, a slight smile playing about her lips. "Yes, darling?"

"You never said why you stopped by."

Irina's smile faltered, but only for a split second. "Oh, I only wanted to talk business, darling," she purred. "But it can wait till Monday."

"Oh." Somehow, that didn't sound quite right to Sydney. "Okay. Goodbye, Mother."

"Goodbye, sweetheart."

"Let me show you out, Irina," Michael said, starting after her.

"No, no, Michael," Irina said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. "You stay right down here with my daughter."

"Okay." Sydney could tell by Michael's eyes that something seemed wrong to him, too, but that he wasn't quite sure what. "Goodbye, Irina."

"Goodbye, Michael."

Sydney waited until she was sure her mother had gone before jumping up from the couch. "She never just stops by like that, Michael!" she exclaimed. "Do you think she planted a bug?"

"Please," Michael scoffed. "Irina doesn't need to know what we're doing. She doesn't care. She knows she can beat us no matter what, anyway."

Sydney locked eyes with her husband, frowning at the gravity of the situation. The sad thing was, they both knew what he said was true.

"Have you thought about what you want to do about my father's offer?" She figured one of them had to bring it up eventually.

Michael sighed, running a hand back through his hair. "I don't know, Syd," he confessed. "My first thought when you told me all of this was how humiliating it would be to turn myself in to the CIA after all of this. They fire me, and look what I do with myself."

Sydney silently guessed that the CIA probably hadn't been all that surprised to find he'd spent the last ten years in a mess she'd gotten him into. Things hadn't been so different back in their CIA days.

"Then I thought, 'Forget your pride, Michael. Do the right thing,'" Michael continued.

"But what's the right thing?" Sydney murmured, perching herself on the arm of the leather couch.

"Exactly." Michael began to pace back in forth before her. "What about the kids, Syd? How are we going to keep them safe as long as your mother's around?"

"Exactly." Sydney wasn't sure whether to be relieved or upset that she and Michael seemed to be on the same train of thought. On the one hand, it was nice that they were on the same wavelength; on the other, he was reinforcing her worst fears.

"I can't help but think that as long as Irina's around, it might be best to stay on her side." Michael dropped down to the couch, pulling her onto his lap.

Sydney paused. "But if you knew our kids would be safe, you'd definitely want to go to the CIA."

"No."

Sydney looked at him in surprise.

"If I knew your mother wouldn't come after us, I'd like to just escape to some private island somewhere."

Sydney smiled. The idea sounded heavenly...but then what would they accomplish? They wouldn't bring down SD-6, wouldn't bring down Irina Derevko. The last ten years would have been for nothing.

Well, not nothing. Over the past ten years, after all, she had married Michael and given birth to two beautiful children.

The only question was what kind of life they would be able to raise those children to live. 


	10. What Irina Knows

****

Chapter Ten: What Irina Knows

"So did you snatch the brats?"

Irina Derevko frowned at the woman seated across from her. At times, she found Brooke Banning's brash attitude refreshing. Not when her comments were so laden with stupidity. Snatch the brats. Brooke ought to have known Irina would never do something so extreme. Except as a last resort.

"Of course not," Irina said crisply. "And I'll thank you not to refer to my daughter's children as brats. I'll also remind you that in not much more than a week's time, you'll be answering to Sydney, not me."

"If she doesn't take Jack Bristow's offer," Brooke said with a smirk.

Irina regarded Brooke with a disapproving frown. Of all of the employees Jack could have singled out as a contact, he'd had to choose her. Of course, his selection of her had hardly been an accident. He'd been able to pinpoint Brooke, force her into double agent hood with threats of arrest, only because she had been drunkenly blabbing too loudly, in a public place, about things she shouldn't have been talking about at all. None of Irina's other employees would have dreamed of doing anything so careless. Irina's first impulse would have been to simply eliminate Ms. Banning, except that she'd known she could find a way to use this new development to her advantage. She always did.

"You're delusional if you think that Sydney would dream of going to the CIA," Irina scoffed. "She's more afraid of me than she is of them." Irina wasn't sure if her organization was more powerful than the CIA. In fact, she was almost certain it wasn't. But her organization had only grown within the past ten years, and she believed it would only continue to do so, as long as she could keep Sydney and Michael under control. She had stopped by their house that day only to observe their behavior. Sydney, at least, had been terrified. She should have been, if she was even thinking about turning Irina in. Terrified for herself. Terrified for her children. Irina's two beautiful little pieces of insurance.

"Does it please you to know that your daughter is afraid of you?" Brooke asked, arching one eyebrow.

"It doesn't displease me," Irina responded. "Do you expect to meet with Jack again soon?"

"Monday," Brooke responded with a yawn. "He wants me to check out how Sydney acts, try to determine what she's going to do. I told him I'd be lucky if that bitch let me anywhere near her."

"I hope that you didn't refer to her as _that bitch_ in his presence," Irina said with raised eyebrows. "I would ask that you not refer to her that way in mine."

Brooke let out a peal of laughter. "That's rich, Irina," she responded. "You don't like anyone to say anything bad about your precious Sydney, but you wouldn't hesitate to kill her if you thought she was going to betray you."

Irina offered her an icy smile. "I wouldn't kill her, Ms. Banning," she told Brooke. "I'd imprison her, put her through the worst kind of hell. Make sure she was alive to see her gorgeous children take my place at the throne."

Brooke raised her eyebrows, her pretty face a mixture of repulsion and admiration. Irina caught a lot of people looking at her that way. "And what would you do with her Michael?"

Irina's smile widened. "I'd let you play with him, darling."

Brooke smiled. Irina had known she'd like that answer. It hadn't been so long ago that Irina had asked Brooke to seduce the gorgeous Michael Vaughn. Ten years. Irina believed she would have been successful, too, if she hadn't tipped her hand too early. It had worked out better this way, though. Irina could control Michael much more easily as Sydney's devoted husband than she could have as her unfaithful boyfriend.

"I wouldn't mind playing with Michael," Brooke said. "Of course, I wouldn't mind playing with Jack Bristow, either."

Irina froze momentarily. Jack Bristow. Played so expertly by her over and over again. She would have almost felt sorry for him, if she didn't find him so pathetic.

"So," Brooke said, rising from her seat. "You want me to contact you after I talk to Bristow again?"

"Yes, darling," Irina said with a smile. "Actually, come see me before you meet with him."

Whether or not Sydney let Brooke near her on Monday, Irina would see that Jack learned what her decision would be.

See that he finally learned not to play with Irina Derevko.


	11. Back in the Game

****

Chapter Eleven: Back in the Game

Sydney took a deep breath outside her mother's office Monday morning, steeling herself up to knock on the door. For the first time in maybe ten years, she felt strong, confident. Like herself. Why? Because for the first time since she'd come to work for her mother ten years before, she was sure of what she was doing. Sure that what she was doing was the right thing.

In a little more than a week, she was turning herself in to the CIA.

She and Michael had talked about it extensively over the weekend, and ultimately decided that it was the only possible decision. The life they were living now was turning them into people they hated. Yes, Sydney was willing to admit that the power her mother was dangling in front of her face was tempting. But she had to get her soul back, and she was afraid this might be her only chance. As for the children, well-- Sydney just had to force herself to feel confident that they would be safe. That was the only option, and she would find a way to see that it happened.

In the meantime, though, she had to pretend that everything was normal. She had to look her mother in the eye and pretend she was happy to do her bidding. It wouldn't be so difficult. She'd been doing the same thing for the last ten years. So that morning she raised her hand to knock on the door to her mother's office--

Only to have the door swing open to reveal a blonde girl with eyes of two different colors, one green and one blue.

"Brooke!" Sydney said in surprise as the woman stepped into the hall, closing Irina's door behind her. "What are you--"

"What am I doing speaking to your mother?" Brooke cut in, an icy smile flashing across her face. "She does occasionally give me assignments, Sydney, even if you don't." It was true. Once Sydney had gained the power to do so, she had cut Brooke's responsibilities; she had never really gotten over Brooke trying to seduce Michael so many years before. In all of the time Sydney had known Michael, Brooke had been the only woman to ever turn his head, and Sydney had never forgiven her for it.

"I'd prefer it if you'd address me as Mrs. Vaughn," Sydney snapped then.

"Yes, I'm sure you would," Brooke said, laughter in her eyes. "How is Michael, by the way?"

Sydney didn't like the way Brooke's voice lingered seductively over Michael's name. Didn't like much about the girl at all, actually. She almost snapped off a terse, "He's fine," or even better, "None of your damned business," in response, but she stopped herself. Better not to show Brooke how much she was getting to her. "He's amazing, actually," Sydney said, smiling as if she were remembering a private moment. "I can't wait to have him to myself this weekend." Actually, she was terrified to leave the children, but she was hardly going to let Brooke know that.

"I'll bet you can't," Brooke responded, a wicked grin flashing across her face. "Your mother tells me you're taking him to St. Bart's. I'll bet he looks great in a Speedo."

"He looks great in a lot less," Sydney replied, surprising even herself. Brooke's comment nagged at her, though. Since when did her mother let Brooke in on her travel plans?

"I'm sure he does," Brooke said. "Well, it's been great chatting with you, Syd-- Mrs. Vaughn, but I'm afraid I have to be going. I've been summoned to meet with someone terribly important. In fact, I think you might know him."

Sydney watched, bewildered, as Brooke flounced away. What the hell did that mean?

She strode into her mother's office, feeling more determined than before. "Who is Brooke Banning rushing off to meet?"

Irina arched an eyebrow. "Your new status in the Organization doesn't excuse you from observing such courtesies as knocking before you enter my office. And Brooke Banning's activities are none of your concern."

"I'm going to be running this Organization," Sydney snapped. "I have the right to know what my agents are doing."

Now Irina raised both eyebrows. "You're behaving like a spoiled child, Sydney dear. It doesn't become you."

Sydney felt like screaming in frustration. Instead she crossed her arms in front of her. "You dropped by my house for a reason Saturday. What was it?"

"Your house?" Irina questioned. "Let me remind you that the house you live in and everything in it was paid for with money that originated from this Organization, my Organization. Don't forget your place here, Sydney."

"I believe you encouraged me to do just that when you gave me control," Sydney responded, glaring at her mother.

Irina regarded her coolly. "You don't have control till next Tuesday, Sydney. Until that time, you are my employee, and even after that time, you will be my daughter, and I will ask you that you treat me with some respect."

Sydney told herself to cool it. It was just that after so many years thinking she would never escape her mother, she could finally taste freedom. Nothing had ever tasted sweeter. "Of course I respect you, Mother." Feared was more like it, but whatever.

"Then act like it." Irina leaned back in her chair. "And do take a seat, darling. You're making me nervous."

Irina Derevko, nervous? That was something Sydney would have paid money to see. She would have paid twice as much to have been the one making her feel that way.

Well, Irina should have been nervous, Sydney thought. She should have been downright scared, in fact. Sydney was going to turn her in, and there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it. Sydney would make sure of that.

After ten years sitting on the bench, she was back in the game. 


	12. Their Next Move

Hey, guys. This chapter is really short, sorry! I needed a warm-up after a few days of writing absolutely nothing-- I've been having a bit of writers' block. Please let me know what you think, and thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed so far!

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Chapter Twelve: Their Next Move

Michael Vaughn wasn't sure why he'd decided to follow Brooke Banning that day. It wasn't like he'd made up some elaborate plan to do so or anything. One minute he was sitting in his car-- Irina's driver had picked up Sydney earlier that morning, so he'd driven to work alone-- the next he was watching Brooke Banning get into a taxi. And he followed her. He couldn't have said why. Instinct.

He followed her all the way to an abandoned warehouse, and for just a moment, he flashed back to all of the times he'd met up with Sydney to give her a counter mission. Had he even realized he was in love with her then? Realized he would turn his entire life upside down just for a shot at a future with her? If he had known how things would turn out, would he have kept his distance?

Something told him that of course he wouldn't have, and that even if he'd tried, it wouldn't have mattered. He and Sydney had been destined for each other from the moment they'd met, for better or worse.

That didn't mean that he'd never thought about how much simpler things would be if he could only be in love with someone he didn't have such a complicated history with. Oh, he hadn't had such thoughts lately. But once, he'd been briefly, barely attracted to Brooke Banning, if for no other reason than that she was completely unlike Sydney in every way, from her white blonde hair to her freckled skin to her uncomplicated smile. He'd never acted on that attraction, of course. Really, he'd been fooling himself to think he could ever feel anything for someone who was everything Sydney was not.

Yet he followed her that day, for no good reason except that he knew he couldn't trust her. He'd never expected to follow her to an abandoned warehouse not unlike the one where he'd shared so many meetings with Sydney.

Never expected to find her chatting with Jack Bristow.

Never expected to follow her back to Organization headquarters and watch as she headed up the stairs toward Irina's office.

And as he watched her, he knew. Knew Irina knew about Jack Bristow's offer and was probably watching him and Sydney expertly, carefully. Waiting for them to make their next move. Waiting to devise hers.

But he did not take that information and wait as if he were helpless, impotent. No. He took action, scrambling after Brooke Banning like a man possessed, grabbing her arm before she could reach Irina's office. "You're coming with me," he said, his voice brusque.

Brooke snatched her arm away, offering him a look of utter disdain. "I don't take orders from you. Neither would anyone else, if you weren't Irina's daughter's little plaything."

"Really?" Michael challenged. "Who do you take orders from? Irina Derevko? Or Jack Bristow?"

Brooke's eyes grew wide. Michael took advantage of her moment of shock, taking her by the arm and guiding her toward his office. "You're coming with me."

She didn't argue this time.


	13. The Conscience of Michael Vaughn

Another short chapter…

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Chapter Lucky Thirteen: The Conscience of Michael Vaughn

Michael led Brooke into his office, all but pushing her into the leather chair that sat opposite his desk.

"Oooh, Mr. Vaughn," Brooke said with a giggle. "Forceful, are we?"

"Don't give me that shit." Michael couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so angry. Damn it. He hadn't trusted Brooke for years, and Syd had trusted her for even less time. However, the duties Sydney assigned her were so inconsequential to the Organization that neither of them believed her to be a threat. But if she was talking to Jack Bristow and telling Irina about the meetings she had with him, there was no telling the damage she could have done. Not to the Organization, but to him and Sydney personally. "How long have you been talking to Bristow?"

Brooke raised her eyebrows. "What worries you, Mr. Vaughn?" she inquired. "That the information I've given Jack might compromise the Organization? Or that I might let Irina know about you and Sydney's disloyalty?"

"What disloyalty?" Michael exploded.

"I know Jack offered you a deal," Brooke purred, swiveling in her chair. Michael had thought he might make her uncomfortable, standing over her like he was. That didn't seem to be the case. "Irina acts like she's not worried about either of you taking it, but I know she's bluffing." She smiled coquettishly up at Michael. "It's you that concerns her, Michael dear. Frankly, you'd concern me, too. It's clear that Sydney's completely under her thumb. But you just might have the balls and conscience to do the right thing."

It took Michael only fractions of a second to have his gun out of his holster and pointed at her head. "I might just have the balls to blow your head off," he said, his voice low and threatening. "And I assure you that my conscience won't get in the way."

Brooke raised her eyebrows. There was appreciation in her eyes, maybe even desire. No fear. "But then you wouldn't get what you want from me, would you, Michael dear?" she asked calmly. "And I'm assuming that you do want something from me, and that you didn't drag me in here just to show me what a strong sexy man you are."

"When do you meet with Jack Bristow again?" Michael demanded, not moving the gun from her temple.

"Tomorrow," Brooke said, examining the chipped red polish that clung to her nails.

"You will tell me as soon as he contacts you," Michael ordered. "And you will not attend that meeting. I will."

This earned raised eyebrows from Brooke. "And what makes you think I won't run off and tell Irina about our little conversation?"

"Besides the gun pointed to your head?"

A smile flickered across Brooke's face. "Besides that."

"I'm assuming Jack Bristow has made some sort of deal with you. I also believe I'm correct in assuming that if I tell him you've been telling Irina about your meetings with him, that deal will be null and void."

Brooke smiled. "Don't tell me you actually think I'm concerned about that deal. You actually think the CIA's going to succeed in taking this organization down?"

"Who knows?" Michael returned her smile, though his was cold. Thin-lipped. "I just might have the balls and conscience to find out."


	14. As Jack Bristow Walked Away

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Chapter Fourteen: As Jack Bristow Walked Away

Michael Vaughn took a deep breath outside the warehouse the next morning, steeling himself up to face Jack Bristow. He couldn't say he was looking forward to the meeting. Under the best of circumstances, he and Jack had managed to be civil to one another; under the circumstances they were currently facing, he would be surprised if Jack didn't pull a gun on him at some point.

He wasn't disappointed. He had no sooner taken his first step inside the warehouse than he found himself slammed against the wall, a gun pressed under his chin.

"Where the hell's Banning?"

"Banning's not coming," Michael said, doing his best to stay calm. He reminded himself that back in his CIA days, he'd been able to hold his own with Jack. Sometimes.

"I suppose she told you all about what she and I have talked about."

"She didn't tell me much, actually," Michael responded. "And she didn't tell me voluntarily. I followed her here yesterday, on an instinct, and later I-- well, I threatened her at gunpoint." This whole situation was so absurd, it was almost humorous. Almost.

"And why did you feel compelled to take her place at this meeting?" Jack demanded. "To tell me in person that I'd lost my contact within the Organization? I won't need her in a week's time, anyway, Mr. Vaughn. Assuming you and your wife make the right decision."

"You really think what you told Sydney makes her feel confident making _the right decision_, as you call it?" Never mind that he and Sydney were already planning to make that decision. Maybe if Jack thought they were teetering on the brink, he would help them. Help them make sure their children would be safe.

Or maybe he'd blow Michael's head off.

"I hope what I told her made her feel like doing the right thing was the only decision," Jack barked.

"Sure, Jack." Michael felt the gun press harder into his chin. "Do you have any idea how hard it's going to be for you to take Irina into custody? Do you realize what she could do to Sydney's and my children in the meantime?"

To Michael's surprise, Jack withdrew his gun, returning it to his holster. "If that's all the confidence you and my daughter have in me, in my ability to set things right," he said, his voice laced with a sadness Michael had never heard from him. "Then it's no wonder things have turned out the way they have for the two of you."

Michael looked away. The truth was, he and Sydney had never doubted what Jack Bristow could do. They'd doubted what he was willing to do.

"You named your son after me."

Michael looked up at his father-in-law, surprised. "Yes."

"Why?"

"It was Sydney's idea." Michael shrugged. "It wasn't just because she knew she might never see you again. Jack was a name she equated with-- you know. Strength."

Jack didn't smile-- Michael had never seen him do that. But his expression softened. "I'll bet Irina loved that."

"That's the thing." Michael smiled at the memory. "We thought she'd throw a fit, but when we told her, she just looked at us, and looked at the baby, and then she said--" he shook his head in wonder. "She said, 'That's perfect.'"

A long silence followed the words, just as it had when Irina had spoken them more than eight years before.

"I met your son."

Michael looked at Jack in surprise. "What? When?"

"Friday. I didn't tell him who I was. We only spoke long enough for me to plant a listening device on his clothes."

Michael looked at him in alarm. "What did you hear?"

"It was the day Sydney was told she'd be taking over the Organization," Jack responded. "I heard you and Sydney fighting."

Michael wasn't sure what to say to that. He stayed silent and let Jack continue.

"You were always Sydney's moral compass, Michael."

Michael's eyes widened in surprise, both at the statement and at the sound of his first name.

"With all the things she saw every day, the kind of people she dealt with, there was always the chance that she would let her dark side take over. You were there to make sure that didn't happen."

Michael found himself speechless for not the first time that day. "I'm sorry, Jack," he finally said.

"No, don't apologize." Jack shook his head. "For years, I was so angry at you. I thought if I ever saw you again, I would kill you for letting things turn out the way they had. But Friday, I realized you're no happier with the way things are than I am."

Another long silence hung between the two men before Jack spoke again. "Who's taking care of your children when you and Sydney go away on vacation?" he asked, suddenly all-business again. 

"Mrs. Simmons, our nanny." It struck Michael as absurd that they were actually leaving for a vacation in two days. But they were still trying to pretend as if everything was normal, even though it was anything but. "She called Saturday to let us know she'd be able to stay."

"I'll keep an eye on things."

"Thank you."

Jack turned to walk away then, but he turned back one more time. "Despite my actions, I know that you and Sydney are facing a very difficult decision. Just know that I will do everything in my power to protect my daughter and her family."

Michael nodded. And silently watched as Jack Bristow walked away.


	15. Happily Ever After

Here's a short little chapter with some Syd/Vaughn love =).

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Chapter Fifteen: Happily Ever After?

Sydney Vaughn looked up from her desk at the sound of a knock on her door. "Who is it?"

"It's me, honey."

Sydney smiled. She knew Michael had met with her father that morning; from the sound of his voice, things had gone well. "Come in, sweetheart."

Michael entered the room, a wide smile playing about his lips.

"Well," Sydney said, returning his grin with one of her own as she rose to greet him. "Looks like someone had a good morning."

He didn't answer, only continued toward her with the same wide smile on his face.

"Michael, what--"

He silenced her with a kiss, a kiss so full of love and desire she felt her knees grow weak.

"Michael," she murmured.

"Syd," he responded, placing his hands on her waist and lifting her so she was sitting on the desk. He moved to sit next to her, leaning over to plant kiss after kiss on her lips, her cheeks, her neck. It was only when she lay back on the desk, pulling him on top of her, that he began whispering: "We're getting out of here, Syd. The kids are going to be safe. We're not going to jail."

"Mmm, Michael," she said, working to loosen his tie. "I love it when you sweet talk me."

"It's true," he said softly, his index finger tracing the outline of her chin. She shivered as his lips followed. "We're going to have everything we ever wanted."

"Tell me more," she said, as his hands began unbuttoning her blouse.

"I don't know exactly how it's going to play out." He removed her blouse, and she rose enough so that he could reach the clasp of her bra. "My hope is that we'll tell the CIA everything they need to take down your mother--" Wherever his hands went, his lips followed, and she gasped as they dipped between her breasts. "--and they'll let us escape to a gorgeous little island somewhere."

"Somewhere no one will ever find us," she said, reaching for his belt buckle.

"And we'll live happily ever after," he concluded, sliding her skirt up her waist.

They made love right there on the desk in her office. She hadn't felt him inside of her for a full week. Before her father had made her the offer. Before her mother had named her as her successor. Before they'd rushed little Emily to the hospital. She'd missed him.

And these had to be the happiest circumstances under which they'd ever made love. The first few times they'd been together, they'd been planning to join her mother's organization. Each time since then, they'd been in captivity. Now, for the first time in ten years, they were about to taste freedom. For not the first time in a few days, she thought that nothing had ever tasted sweeter.

With the possible exception of Michael's lips.


	16. A Marvelous Little Spy

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Chapter Sweet Sixteen: A Marvelous Little Spy

When Jack Bristow had wanted to see his grandson after school, he'd had to stage a car accident.

When Irina Derevko wanted to do the same, she simply made a phone call. After all, she ruled the world, or at least, the little world she inhabited. Oh, how it thrilled her to see Sydney's face each time she learned something to make her realize, all over again, how vast and far-reaching the Organization was. Irina would never forget the day Sydney and Michael had joined her for good. A driver had blindfolded the two of them and taken them to her Los Angeles office; from there, they had boarded the plane that would take them to the Organization's main headquarters. They hadn't even known what country they were traveling to. In many ways, it hadn't mattered. In many ways, Irina's empire was a nation all its own, not subject to the rules and regulations imposed on the rest of the world. Sydney had been awed and a little horrified that day. And every day since. For as good and loyal of an employee as Sydney had been, Irina knew that the disgust at the things she did every day had never completely gone away. Irina didn't mind that about her. It meant she was still human, something Irina had ceased to be years ago.

"Jack!" Irina called then, watching as the young boy appeared in front of the school, looking for the car Mrs. Simmons drove. Recognition flashed in the young boy's eyes at the sight of her, then worry. As soon as he pulled open the car door and began speaking, she knew why the worry was there.

"Hi, Grandma," he said, green eyes full of concern. He looked so very much like his father. "How come you're picking me up? Is Emily okay?"

"Oh, yes, she's fine." Of course. The last time Irina had picked up her grandson, his parents had been at the hospital with Emily. "I just wanted to see you. I didn't get to speak to you much when I visited the other day."

Jack nodded at the memory. "Right. When Mom didn't feel well."

"Yes." This conversation couldn't have been going better if Irina had planned it herself. She pulled the car into traffic and started toward her daughter's home. "I offered to have you and Emily spend the night with me so your mom could get better, but she didn't want that."

A troubled look crossed Jack's face. "She and dad probably wanted to watch Emily themselves, since she'd just had to go to the hospital." There was some resentment in the boy's voice, yes, but mostly Irina heard genuine concern for his little sister. He had such a good heart. Too good, Irina thought, for the work he'd be doing one day.

"And I'm sure they wanted to spend time with you, too," she said softly, feeling her own heart go out to him.

Jack's face brightened at that. "Yeah. Dad and I played basketball all Saturday morning, and he said this year I can sign up for hockey. Mom might not let me, though," he said, his face growing troubled again. "She gets real worried about me."

Irina almost had to laugh at that. The boy was being groomed to be the leader of an international crime syndicate, and his mother was worried he might get hurt playing hockey. It would have been hilarious, if Irina had been 100% sure Jack would grow up to run the Organization. If she had known Sydney wasn't going to hand her over to the CIA. Irina pushed the doubts aside quickly. She would just have to make sure that didn't happen.

"She does worry about you,' she told her grandson then. "That's what mothers do. I worry about your mother all the time."

"You do?"

"Mm-hmm." Irina pulled the car up in front of Sydney's house. "Especially lately. She hasn't been acting like herself."

"No, I guess she hasn't." Poor Jack. He had been cursed with being so terribly sensitive. But he was also smart and strong, two traits that would serve Irina well in the years to come. If all went according to plan.

"Do me a favor, Jack," Irina said, smiling at her grandson. "Keep an extra special eye on your mom and dad until they go on vacation, okay? And if they do or say anything that seems funny to you, let Grandma know."

Jack nodded, gathering his backpack and opening the car door. "Okay, Grandma."

"Good boy."

"Bye, Grandma. Thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome, Jack."

Irina smiled as she watched the boy run up the front steps of his home. Her grandson was going to make a marvelous little spy.

He just didn't know it yet.


	17. A Night At Home

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Chapter Seventeen: A Night At Home

After Michael left her office that day, Sydney allowed herself to spend the rest of the afternoon reveling in the afterglow of his love, choosing not to think about what the next week would bring. Michael loved her, and he believed everything was going to be okay. That was almost as good as believing it herself.

She went home a little early that night, early enough that she was able to spend some time with the children before dinner. Michael got home shortly after her, and after they ate she gave Emily a bath and got her ready for bed while he helped Jack with his homework. Sydney could hardly believe how content she felt as she pulled the covers up to Emily's chin and kissed the little girl's forehead. "Good night, little one," she whispered. There was nothing she liked better than quiet nights at home with her family.

Except maybe not so quiet ones in the bedroom with her husband. She smiled as she entered the living room to find Michael watching television on the couch. She moved to sit next to him, kissing his cheek and resting her head on his shoulder.

"Our angel is asleep," she told him as his arm made its way around her shoulders.

"Good," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Jack's in the bathtub. He finished his homework."

"Good," she responded, moving so she was sitting on her husband's lap. "The sooner he goes to bed, the sooner we can do the same."

"Tired?" he asked with a smile, smoothing her hair back from her face.

"Not at all," she said, leaning over to give him a long, passionate kiss.

"I take it you enjoyed yourself this afternoon," he said, his smile widening.

"You know I love it when you're forceful." She turned so she was facing him, straddling him.

"Do you?" A wicked grin flashed across his handsome face. "You didn't so much at the CIA."

"Oh, I did," she assured him, raking her hands through his sandy brown hair. He was so beautiful. How had she gotten so lucky? "I just pretended I didn't."

"Really? What else did you like about me at the CIA?"

"Besides your gorgeous face?" she asked, leaning over to plant a kiss on his lips.

"Besides that," he said, matching her kiss with one of his own.

"Mmm," she said. It would have been a lot easier to carry on a conversation if she could have kept her lips from his for more than three seconds at a time, but it was as if there were a magnetic force drawing her to him. "I liked how adorably protective you were of me."

"Oh, you noticed that?" he murmured, taking her lips with his.

"Mm-hmm." Another kiss, then another. "And how jealous you'd get when I'd mention the name Will Tippin."

"I did not!" he protested.

"Could have-- AAAH!" she let out a scream at the sight of their son, peeking around the doorway to the room.

"What is it?" If Sydney hadn't scrambled off of Michael, he would have pushed her off, as quickly as he jumped up from the couch.

"Jack, honey, you scared me," Sydney gasped.

"What do you need, buddy?" Michael's eyes were wild, still darting around the room as if searching for his gun.

"I--" Jack hesitated, as if unsure why he was standing there. "I just wanted to say goodnight."

"Oh." Sydney smothered a laugh at the look on Michael's face. "Goodnight."

"I'll come tuck you in, Jack," Sydney said, patting her husband's shoulder on her way past him. "Michael, why don't you get ready for bed? I'll come join you in a minute."

She was pulling the covers under Jack's chin before he spoke again. "What's the CIA?"

"What's the--" Sydney's eyes widened as she realized Jack must have been watching her and Michael for at least a few minutes. "Jack, if you wanted to talk to your daddy and me, you should have said something. It's rude to listen in on private conversations." Conversation. Right. So that was what they were calling it these days.

"I know. I'm sorry." A beat. "What's the CIA?"

"It's a United States government agency, sweetie." _Well, honey, years ago the CIA fired your daddy, and now they're going to throw your mommy and daddy in jail if we don't do exactly what they say._

"Did you and Dad used to work for them?"

"Yes, honey." _Yes, honey. Right up until your daddy got fired for breaking too many rules to help your mommy, who, by the way, had never even told him she loved him._

"Why don't you anymore?"

__

Well, honey, that's an interesting story…"We work for your grandma now, sweetie."

"But why?"

Now there was a good question. "Going to work for your grandma seemed like the best thing to do at the time, sweetheart." She pressed her lips to her son's forehead and rose from the bed. "Get some sleep, Jack."

"Okay. Goodnight, Mom."

"Goodnight, Jack." She turned off his light and closed the door behind her, hurrying down the hall to settle into bed with her husband. "We have a very inquisitive son, Michael."

"Mmm." He began to stroke her hair slowly, almost distractedly. "You know who else was inquisitive?"

"Who?"

"Will Tippin."

Sydney let out a peal of laughter, raising her hand to give her husband a playful swat. He caught her wrists and turned to pin her to the bed, his lips crashing down on hers.

She had half a mind to make him get up and lock the door before they went any further.


	18. Where Little Jack Fit In

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Chapter Eighteen: Where Little Jack Fit In

Michael woke the next morning to the sound of the alarm, quickly followed by Sydney's soft voice at his ear.

"Rise and shine, baby," she whispered, following her words with a trail of kisses down his neck.

"Mmm," he murmured drowsily. "Five more minutes, sweetheart."

"If you spend the next five minutes in bed," she said, her lips dropping to his shoulder. "You're not going to be sleeping."

"That takes more than five minutes, Syd." He opened one eye to look at his beautiful wife, who was now planting kisses on his chest. "Give me a little credit."

"It usually does," she allowed, her lips moving dangerously lower. "It doesn't have to."

"Syd, what's gotten into you these last couple of days?" he laughed.

"Me?" She lifted her head to give him a quick kiss on the lips. "I believe you're the one who marched into my office and started undressing me yesterday."

"Oh, believe me, I'm not complaining," he assured her, running a hand over her hair. "I'm just wondering if something's going on that you maybe want to talk about, or if I'm really that good."

"You're really that good." She kissed him once more on the lips before resting her head on his chest. He let his arms move around her shoulders. "Michael?"

"Yes, sweetie?" He planted a loving kiss on the top of her head. God, he loved her. He would do anything if only he could guarantee her safety and comfort.

"Do you really think everything's going to be okay? That my dad's going to be able to work everything out for us?"

"I do," he responded, stroking her hair.

"Why?"

He froze momentarily. Why, indeed? "I guess because I have to," he answered honestly. "I have to in order to be able to do what we're going to do."

She gave him a soft kiss on the lips. "It's the right thing, isn't it?"

"Yes." He returned her kiss, not breaking the hold his lips had on hers until they were interrupted by a tiny knock on the door.

"Mommy! Daddy!"

A laugh escaped Sydney's lips. "What is it, sweetie?"

"I'm up!"

Michael couldn't help laughing, himself, as their doorknob turned back and forth while their daughter struggle to open the locked door.

"You locked me out!" she yelped.

"Just a minute, sweetie," Sydney called, climbing out of bed and throwing a robe over her nude body, the sight of which made Michael very much want to forget the little girl standing on the other side of the door.

"You decent under there, tiger?" Sydney asked, offering him a smirk.

"You should know," Michael responded with a grin. "You were heading that direction just a minute ago." In fact, he was wearing a pair of boxer shorts that he had made his way into at some point during the night, and they both, of course, knew it.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," she teased, unlocking the bedroom door so that their tiny daughter could scramble in.

"Morning, Mommy," she said, and Michael took the opportunity to throw on the undershirt that lay, discarded, beside the bed as Sydney bent so that the little girl could throw her arms around her neck.

"Morning, angel," Sydney said warmly.

Emily released her mother from her grip and scrambled toward her daddy, climbing onto the bed and hurling herself at Michael. "Morning, Daddy."

"Morning, princess,' he said, kissing the top of the little girl's head and marveling, for the millionth time, at how much she looked like her mother.

"I'm going to hop in the shower," Sydney said, eyes twinkling as she smiled at her husband and daughter. "Michael, honey, be a dear and get Jack up, won't you?"

"Only if Emily will help me," Michael said, ruffling his daughter's hair.

"Okay!" Emily said brightly, scrambling off of the bed and out of the room. "Jack!" 

Michael smiled and got up to follow her, pausing on his way out of the room to kiss his wife. "Take your time," he said huskily. "Maybe I'll join you in a minute."

"Michael," she teased. "What's gotten into you these past couple of days?"

"Nothing," he responded with a grin. "You're just that good." He kissed her one last time before heading down the hall towards Jack's room.

He had expected to find his son still half-asleep and his daughter trying to shake him awake; instead, he encountered Jack, sitting up in bed, talking on the cordless phone while Emily sat at the foot of the bed sucking her thumb.

"Take your thumb out of your mouth, princess," he told the little girl distractedly, just as Jack said goodbye and put the phone down.

"I didn't hear the phone ring," Michael said with a frown.

"It didn't," Jack responded, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I called Grandma."

"What?" Warning bells chimed in Michael's head, though he couldn't have said precisely why. Of course Jack had called his grandmother on the phone before. Michael just couldn't recall a single occasion when he'd done so at six-thirty in the morning without permission. "Why?"

"I needed to ask her something," Jack said, shuffling past his father into the hall.

"Oh." Michael followed his son out of the room, Emily at his heels. "Did you get your answer?"

"Nah," Jack said, continuing down the hall to the bathroom he and Emily shared. "She's going to pick me up from school and we're going to talk some more."

This really didn't sit well with Michael. The information he had learned over the course of the past week was swimming around his head wildly.

Jack Bristow had offered Sydney a deal. Brooke, and presumably Irina, knew about that deal. Only Michael and Sydney knew for sure that they were taking that deal.

So where did little Jack fit in? 


	19. Something to Think About

****

Chapter Nineteen: Something To Think About

Irina Derevko sat back against her office chair later that morning, mulling over the conversation she'd had with her grandson that morning.

"I'm sorry to call so early," he'd said, his small voice hesitant.

"Oh, don't be sorry," Irina assured him. "What's on your mind?"

"I think Mom and Dad are fine," he blurted out. "I mean, they're not acting that weird. We ate dinner last night and Dad helped me with my homework and I came down to the living room after I took my bath and they were talking and kissing--" he finally paused for a breath, and Irina frowned. What had him so rattled?

"Sometimes they talk about stuff, and I don't know what they mean."

Irina smiled. Now, maybe, they were getting somewhere. "Like what, sweetheart?"

"Like the CIA."

Irina's smile widened. Then she heard a scuffling on the other end of the line, followed by Emily's practically deafening cry of, "It's time to get up, Jackie!"

"I _am_ up, Emily." Jack had put his hand over the receiver, but Irina could still make out his muffled voice. "And don't call me Jackie."

"Who are you talking to?" Emily asked.

"Grandma. Go away."

"Grandma! I want to talk to her!"

She heard Jack sigh, then he came back on the line. "Grandma, Emily's here, and I'll bet Dad'll be in here in a minute, so I can't really talk. But listen--" his voice grew very quiet as he asked, "Do you know about the CIA?"

Irina smiled. "Yes, darling. I know all about it."

"Will you tell me?"

Irina's smile widened. "I'll tell you all sorts of things, Jack."

"Good." The relief in Jack's voice was almost palpable. "Can you come get me after school again?"

"Of course, darling." Irina heard a muffled, masculine voice, and she knew that Michael must have entered the room. "I'll talk to you later, okay, Jack?"

"Okay. Bye."

The receiver had clicked on the other end of the line, and now, in the present, there was a knock on Irina's door. "Who is it?" she called.

"It's me, Mother."

Irina smiled. Her meeting with Jack that afternoon would be productive, to be sure. But it would be nothing compared to what she could do with Sydney. "Please come in, darling."

Sydney entered the room, dressed impeccably in a sleek black suit, her hair pulled back in a bun.

"Sydney." Irina pasted a welcoming smile on her face and rose to kiss her daughter's cheek.

"Good morning, mother."

"Please. Sit down." Irina gestured to the seat across from her. She had asked Sydney to come see her for a reason; she wasn't about to beat around the bush any longer than necessary. "So. You and Michael are leaving in the morning?"

"Yes." A smile crossed Sydney's face. "I can't wait."

"I'll bet." Irina smiled. "Mrs. Simmons is watching the children?"

"Yes."

"I would have been happy to stay with them, Sydney." Irina watched her daughter's reaction carefully. She didn't know if Sydney knew that Irina knew about Jack's offer. If she did, she should have been absolutely terrified at the idea of leaving Irina alone with her children.

But Sydney's response was relatively calm. Irina wasn't sure if that was because she didn't know what Irina knew, or because she was a good actress. Irina had never known her to be terribly adept at hiding her emotions. "I know you would have, Mother," Sydney said. "But I know you have a lot of other responsibilities."

"Still." Irina persisted, hoping to get more of a reaction out of her daughter. "I don't get many opportunities to spend with my grandchildren."

"I understand you're doing your best to remedy that situation," Sydney said coolly, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Michael tells me you'll be picking up Jack from school today."

Irina wasn't sure why she was surprised to learn that Jack had revealed that piece of information to his father, but she was. She hoped her surprise didn't show on her face. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am."

"Do you do that often?" Sydney inquired. "Take my children on outings without my knowledge or consent?"

Irina raised her eyebrows. It was a fair question, she supposed. Just not one she'd anticipated. "Not often, no," she responded, "But Jack called this morning to ask me something, and we really didn't have time to go into it over the phone."

"Yes, he told Michael that, too." Irina didn't much care for the look in Sydney's eyes. It said something along the lines of, _My children tell me everything-- EVERYTHING. So don't even think about trying to fuck with me through them_. "I'm just curious what he could possibly have to ask you that he couldn't ask me and Michael."

"Oh, he didn't tell Michael that?" Irina asked with a smirk. If there was one thing she detested about her daughter, it was the fact that she thought far too highly of herself. She didn't know her place.

"Michael didn't want to pry," Sydney snapped. Ah. There. The emotions reared their ugly head. The girl was so fucking predictable.

"Of course he didn't," Irina said, in a tone she hoped was patronizingly reassuring. "And if you're curious about what Jack's asking me about, well--" she paused for dramatic effect. "He's terribly worried about you."

"He is?"

Irina smirked. "Well, you really haven't been acting like yourself lately, darling."

"I know," Sydney said, biting her lower lip pensively. "I've just been tense about taking over the Organization."

__

Yeah, that's not all you've been tense about. But Irina decided it wasn't time to play that particular card just yet. "You're ready for the responsibility, sweetheart," she purred.

"I hope so." Sydney sounded so sincere that Irina almost believed that she was going to do the right thing, that she wasn't going to betray the Organization. Well, Irina corrected herself, Sydney _wasn't_ going to betray the Organization. She just wasn't sure if her daughter's silence would be by choice.

"So," Irina changed the subject abruptly. "How's Princess Emily?"

Sydney shot Irina a surprised smile. "Why did you call her that?"

"Isn't that what you and Michael call her?" _Or is that just the way you treat her?_ But Irina knew that wasn't really fair, that Sydney and Michael were doing their best. Emily had been born so small, so early, and now she had the asthma, which was usually easily controlled but sometimes wasn't. It was only natural that her parents would be a bit overprotective of her. That didn't mean Irina couldn't use that particular point to her advantage where Jack was concerned.

"I don't know," Sydney responded with a laugh. "Michael does sometimes. Daddy's little princess." She smiled fondly, twirling a few loose strands of hair around her finger. "He spoils her, I think. But then, he spoils me, too."

"And Jack?" Irina was genuinely curious about the answer. From what she had seen, she thought Michael was an amazing father, to both of his children. But she was curious to know what Sydney thought.

"He's wonderful to Jack," Sydney responded. "Teaching him things, explaining things to him. He expects a lot from him, but it's just because he knows Jack's capable of anything. I get frustrated with Jack, I do, but Michael--" Irina was surprised to see Sydney's eyes actually fill with tears. "Michael believes anything is possible, for any of us. He never just accepts what's in front of him, he sees how he can make it better." She shrugged. "I guess that's why I love him so much."

Irina smiled. She would have almost been touched by her daughter's words. If she still had a soul. "Well, Michael's a good man, sweetheart. Terribly devoted to you. Though not, I'm afraid, to the Organization."

Sydney drew back as if she had been slapped. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, darling." Irina let out a mirthless little laugh. "Your husband was a CIA company man, a straight arrow. He does a good job here because he's smart, because he's a hard worker, because he know it makes you happy. But I see how what he has to do every day sickens him. I don't think he'd even be able to force himself out of bed in the morning, if it weren't for you and the children."

"That's a pretty sad picture you paint of him," Sydney gasped.

"Oh, I don't think Michael's unhappy, exactly," Irina assured her. "Just-- troubled, because he isn't able to do what he believes to be the right thing. And I can't help thinking that if he had a chance to do the right thing _and_ be with you, he'd take it."

Sydney sat speechless before her, eyes wide as saucers.

"Of course, I know that _you _know that's not possible," Irina continued. "You're so deep into the Organization there's no way you can ever leave. Not without--" She let the rest of the sentence dangle, but she was sure she didn't have to say it: _Not without risking your lives_.

"I-- I have a lot to do before Michael and I leave," Sydney murmured, rising hesitantly from her chair.

"Of course you do," Irina said, offering her a brittle smile. "And I'm sure you have a lot to think about."

Sydney froze momentarily, but Irina thought it was to her credit that she still managed to walk toward the door. Well. Irina would leave her with one more thing to think about.

"I know you'll make the right decision, Sydney." 


	20. Music to Her Ears

****

Chapter Twenty: Music to Her Ears

Irina pulled up in front of Jack's school that afternoon, a self-satisfied smirk playing about her lips. She knew Sydney must have wanted to stop this little meeting, must have wanted to sweep up her son and take him as far the hell away from Irina as she could get. That wasn't going to happen. Irina would pick up Jack as planned, and Sydney wouldn't do a damned thing about it.

"Hi, Grandma," Jack said, climbing into the car.

"Hello, my darling," Irina said, offering him a warm smile. "Where would you like to go? The park? Or are you hungry?"

"No, I'm fine," he responded. "The park's fine."

"All right," Irina said, pulling the car into traffic. "We can talk on the way. What do you want to know, sweetheart?"

"What's the CIA?"

Irina raised her eyebrows. Well, he cut right to the chase, didn't he? "Well, Jack, it's a United States government agency--" the expression on the boy's face told her he'd heard this explanation before. Well, she'd tell him something he didn't know. "--and an enemy of the Organization."

Jack's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Why did my mom and dad work for an enemy of the Organization?"

Irina smiled. She had to tread carefully here. Choose her words wisely. "Your parents didn't have the upbringing you're getting, Jack. They didn't have the knowledge you will have one day, about what the Organization is and what it does."

"Why not?" Jack furrowed his adorable little brow. He looked so much like his father.

Damn. What Irina was about to tell him was something he really should be hearing from his parents. Oh, well. Irina supposed it was better he hear it from his grandmother than from his broken, emotional wreck of a mother or his morally conflicted father. "Your mother was raised by her father, and officer in the CIA. She grew up with an entirely different sense of right and wrong."

"Why wasn't she raised by you?"

Shit. Shit shit shit. Irina pulled over beside the park, but neither of them got out of the car. "Well, Jack." Oh, there was no good way to say this except just to say it. "I had to leave your mother for a bit."

The stricken look on Jack's face was nearly enough to break Irina's heart. The boy had parents who loved him and adored each other. The possibility that one or both of his parents could leave and never come back had obviously never occurred to him.

Or had it? Irina flashed back to the birth of Emily. So tiny. Fighting for her life. Sydney fighting for her own. Irina had stayed with Jack for days, weeks. Michael had come home occasionally, unshaven, unwashed. No good to anyone. It had troubled Irina so to see her son-in-law in such a state. Crumbled. Broken. And if Irina had been troubled, there was no telling how Jack must have felt, seeing his big strong daddy in pieces. He must have been so very afraid.

As he must have been now, listening to his grandmother tell how she'd left her own daughter. Well, Grandma would put his fears to rest. "Jack, honey," she said gently. "Remember how I stayed with you after your sister was born? When your mom and dad were at the hospital?"

Jack nodded silently, looking about ready to burst into tears.

Irina placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You will never have to be alone like your mother was. I promise you."

Jack looked at her, bewildered. "But Mom wasn't alone. You said she had her dad."

Irina sighed. "Jack, honey, I'm afraid she would have been better off alone than with her father."

Jack frowned as if trying to wrap his brain around the new information he was being given.

"Jack, I'm going to tell you something, and you have to promise to keep it a secret, even from your mom and dad. Promise?"

Jack nodded in response, green eyes full of worry and fear.

"Your mother's father, your grandfather, has been talking to your mother. He's trying to get her to tell him, tell the CIA, things that will hurt the Organization."

Jack looked at his grandmother with wide eyes. "Mom would never do that."

Irina reached out to smooth her grandson's hair back from his forehead. "She might, sweetie. If her dad did or said something to make her scared not to tell him. If he said he would hurt you, or Emily, or your dad, she might tell him."

"We have to stop her!" Jack yelped.

Irina smiled. Such a good boy. His parents might not have been proud of him, wrapped up as they were with their princess, their sickly, pathetic little angel. But his grandmother certainly was. "I know, sweetheart. That's why I need your help."

"What do you want me to do?" Jack asked eagerly.

Irina smiled. "Just watch, darling. I know your mom and dad are going away on vacation. But if they do or say anything before they leave or after they get back-- anything at all-- to make you think they're going to the CIA, then you call me immediately. And keep watch around your house while they're gone. The CIA might have someone watching it, and I want to know about that, too. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Grandma."

"Good boy." Irina leaned over to kiss the top of her grandson's head. "And remember, Jack. Don't tell your mother or father what we've talked about. They don't want you to worry, but I told you because I know you can handle it and because I need your help, okay?"

"Okay."

Irina smiled, shooting one final look at the boy before pulling the car back into traffic. "You're going to do a marvelous job running this Organization one day."

His response was music to his grandmother's ears.

"I can't wait."


	21. Enough

Man, this thing is getting long. The end is in sight, somewhere in the distance, but I can't say I know when it's coming. Thanks to everyone for sticking with me so far!

****

Chapter Twenty-One: Enough

Sydney's eyes fluttered open, and she looked around, confused, trying to remember where she was. It wasn't difficult once she realized she was in a cushy first-class airplane seat instead of the bed she shared with Michael. She had been a little disappointed when her mother had told her that the private jet wouldn't be available for their trip, but flying commercial did have certain advantages. For one, it made her feel less like she was going out one of Irina's missions and more like she was actually going on vacation.

Free.

"Morning, sunshine," Michael said softly, leaning over to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"Morning, baby," she responded, a smile working its way across her face. Now she didn't have to worry about where she was. If she was with him, it meant she was home.

"You always sleep like a baby on airplanes," he noted, lacing his fingers through hers. "I've never been able to do that."

Sydney smiled. "I learned to do it back in my SD-6 days. If I didn't sleep on the plane, I didn't sleep at all."

"That explains it." He sat back against his seat, the two of them silent for a moment.

"I hated saying goodbye to the kids last night." They'd had to leave for the airport so early in the morning that they'd decided to take turns saying goodbye to the children the night before.

"I know, honey," Michael said tenderly. "But we'll be home to them before we know it."

"I know." Still. Sydney had felt so uneasy as she'd tucked Emily into bed, brushing her hair back from her face and kissing her forehead.

"You be a good girl for Mrs. Simmons," she'd told her daughter.

"I will, Mommy," Emily responded solemnly.

"Of course you will," Sydney sighed, pulling the little girl to her tightly. "You're an angel."

Saying goodbye to Jack had been even harder. He'd been behaving so strangely that evening, so solemn and secretive. Sydney was dying to know what Irina had said to him earlier, but he'd evaded every question she'd asked about his afternoon with Grandma.

"I'll miss you, sweetheart," she'd said as she'd pulled the covers up to his chin, pressing her lips to his forehead. "You be good for Mrs. Simmons, okay? Do your homework and put your comic books away when she asks you to."

Sydney had expected him to grumble off a quick, "Okay, okay," and roll over to go to sleep. Instead, a strange flash of fear had gleamed in his green eyes.

"Why can't Grandma stay with us?"

"Because Mrs. Simmons is, sweetheart," Sydney said, trying to keep her voice neutral. "You like her, don't you?"

"I guess." To Sydney's horror and surprise, Jack's eyes filled with tears as he choked out, "You guys are coming back, right?"

"Jack!" Sydney wrapped her arms around her son comfortingly. "Of course we're coming back."

"Sometimes--" Jack's lower lip began to tremble violently. "Sometimes when you leave, I think you're not going to. Come back, I mean."

"Jackie, honey--" he hated when anyone called him that, but it just slipped out. "--I promise we're coming back. Okay?"

Jack stared at her for a long moment, then blurted out the last thing she expected to hear. "Grandma told me she left you when you were a little girl."

"What?!" A million thoughts ran through Sydney's head, the most pressing of them being, _Why_?

"Don't tell her I told you," Jack said in a rush. "I wasn't supposed to tell you."

"It's okay, sweetheart," Sydney assured him. "I'm just surprised she told you that."

"Why, Mom?" Jack asked, green eyes wide. "Why would she leave you?"

"Because--" _Because she wasn't who I thought she was. Because her marriage to my father was just an illusion._ "Because she was going somewhere I couldn't go."

Jack looked suddenly near tears again. "You said I couldn't go on this vacation!"

"But we're coming back, sweetheart." Sydney had never seen him like this before. She wanted to kill her mother for whatever she'd said to drive him to this. The little boy was terrified. "And anyway, my mother didn't leave me by myself. I had my father."

"She said you would have been better off alone."

Sydney's eyes flared, and she jumped up from the bed, reeling around the room. Who the hell did her mother think she was?

"Don't tell her I told you, Mom," Jack pleaded. "I wasn't supposed to tell."

"I--" Sydney clenched her hands into fists, trying to collect her thoughts. "I just wish she hadn't told you that, Jack. My father-- well, no, he wasn't a very good dad. But he did his best." _His best._ Oh, God. _"You know how good my best is, Sydney,"_ he'd said only a few days before. His best hadn't been nearly the hell good enough when she was a kid, why was she trusting him to do _his best_ now?

"Jack, listen to me." Sydney returned to her spot on the bed, brushing her son's hair back from his forehead. "Your daddy and I would never leave you. We love you very much, okay?"

"Okay," he whispered, not looking entirely convinced. "Emily is staying here too, right?"

"Yes, sweetheart," Sydney confirmed. "Be a good big brother and watch out for her while your dad and I are away, okay?"

Jack nodded solemnly, and Sydney wondered if maybe she shouldn't have said that. He took everything so seriously, had such an inflated sense of duty and responsibility. He got that from his daddy, Sydney supposed.

"I love you," Sydney said, her voice firm. "Have a good night's sleep, honey. Your dad and I will be back before you know it, okay?"

"Okay. Love you, Mom."

Sydney slid a glance at Michael then, on the plane, wondering wildly if this trip was a mistake. Yes, they were keeping up the pretense that everything was normal, hoping that her mother would take it as a sign that they weren't about to take Jack Bristow up on his offer. But was it really wise to travel so far away, trusting that her father would keep her little ones safe?

"Michael?" His eyes had been about to close, and she felt horrible about keeping him awake. He must have been exhausted to even attempt sleep on a plane, poor baby. But she needed him. So badly it hurt.

"Yes, sweetheart." And he knew. He always knew just what she needed. Always was just what she needed.

"I'm scared," she whispered, so softly she feared he wouldn't hear her. "I'm so scared."

He didn't say anything, only tightened the grip on her hand.

It wasn't all the reassurance she had hoped for. But for the moment, it was enough. 


	22. Playing Spies

****

Chapter Twenty-Two: Playing Spies

"Play with me, Jack," Emily Vaughn said, tugging at the untucked hem of her brother's t-shirt.

"Not now, Emily," Jack responded distractedly, gazing out the window into their front yard.

"_Please_." A quick glance at the little girl showed Jack that she was giving him the big puppy dog eyes that never failed to get her what she wanted from their father. His mother used the same look from time to time. Women.

"I don't want to play with--" Jack stopped short as he watched a black car pull up across the street. There was something familiar about that car. Where had he seen it before? "Let's go outside," he said suddenly.

"Mrs. Simmons said no 'cause it's supposed to rain," Emily responded solemnly.

"Do you do everything you're told?" Jack asked impatiently. Oh, right, of course she did. She was perfect. "Come on," he urged. "It'll be fun, I promise. We're going to pretend to be spies."

"Spies?" Emily's eyes widened. 

"Yes. Spies," Jack confirmed. "Come on, let's go-- no, wait," he said, stopping the little girl as she started to bound out the door. "We're spies, remember? We have to be sneaky. See that car?" Emily nodded that she did. "Okay. We don't want whoever's sitting in that car to see us."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean, why not?" Jack threw his hands up in exasperation. "You'd make a lousy spy, Emily."

"I would not!" she cried.

"Shh," Jack said. "Let's go outside before Mrs. Simmons catches us. And remember, the game is not to let the person in the black car see us." 

"Okay," she said with a shrug.

Jack took he hand and led her through the house to the door that led into the garage. A couple of times along the way, they had to duck out of the way to avoid being seen by Mrs. Simmons, and they both broke into fits of relieved giggles once she'd passed by. It was fun, being spies.

Once they were outside, they pressed themselves against the side of the house, moving slowly toward the front yard.

"Okay," Jack whispered, once they neared the front of the house. "Once we're in the front yard, whoever's in that car will see us if we're not careful. What we've got to do is run from tree to tree very fast. When I get to the one by the sidewalk I'm going to climb up so I can see better."

"But you don't have any bino-calers," Emily pointed out.

"Oh. You're right," Jack said with a frown. Maybe he wouldn't make such a great spy, either. "Okay, Emily. I'm going to give you a mission."

"What's a mission?" she asked with a frown.

"Well, this time," he whispered. "Your mission is to--"

"Why are you whispering?"

"Don't ask so many questions," he said impatiently. "Okay, here's what I want you to do. Go back inside through the garage, then sneak into Dad's office-- without Mrs. Simmons seeing you, Emily-- and take Dad's binoculars from his desk. Then bring them to me. But be sneaky when you bring them. Don't let the guy in the car see you."

"We're not supposed to play with Dad's bino-calers."

"He won't mind this one time," Jack assured her. "Now go get them, okay?"

Emily nodded uncertainly and headed back along the house toward the garage. Jack rolled his eyes. Fat chance she'd get them and get back outside without getting caught. Oh, well. She'd just been in the way, anyway. Now he could get down to business.

He set his sights on the tree nearest him, frowned, and broke into a run. It was hard to tell whether the guy in the car was watching him or not. Rats. He shouldn't have had Emily go after the binoculars, he should have had her make a distraction. Stupid. He really wasn't doing such a good job as a spy.

Nevertheless, it was too late to back out of this mission now. He ran from tree to tree as quickly as he could, finally reaching the one closest to the street. He paused for a minute to catch his breath, then began climbing. Though he really wouldn't be able to see much till Emily brought him the binoculars.

He was only halfway as far up the tree as he'd meant to go, though, when he was startled by the sound of a slamming car door. His eyes flew to the familiar car across the street, and he watched as a familiar man stepped out. Well, not so familiar. But someone he'd seen before.

And he felt himself lose his grip on the branch he was clinging to, and he fell backwards out of the tree. 

The man had vanished by the time he stood up, as had the car. Jack didn't waste any time.

He hurried into the house, ran to the kitchen, and picked up the phone.


	23. Someday We'll Have the Island

A short, shippy little chapter. I promise this is going somewhere!

Chapter Twenty-Three: Someday We'll Have the Island

Sydney and Michael spent their first few hours at Irina's vacation home in St. Bart's napping, or rather, Michael did. Sydney just lay there, staring at her beautiful husband and trying not to think about what lay ahead for them when they returned from their vacation.

Michael opened his eyes, and his face softened into a smile at the sight of her. "Hey."

"Hi," she said, returning his smile. She was determined not to show him how tense she was feeling, not to ruin the last few days before everything changed.

"Have you been awake long?" he asked, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek. "You could have woken me."

"Oh, I didn't want to do that." She didn't have the heart to tell him that she hadn't slept at all. "What do you want to do tonight, sweetheart?"

He smiled. "We haven't been out on a date in awhile."

"A date?" she teased. "Like you mean what single people do on the weekends?"

"What we used to do, occasionally," he corrected. "Dinner, drinks, dancing."

She let out a peal of laughter almost in spite of herself and all of the worries plaguing her. He must have been worried, too, but he wasn't letting it show. "You have _never _taken me dancing, Michael Vaughn."

"I have, too!" he protested.

"Uh-uh," she shook her head. "We've danced at my mother's parties, that is not the same thing."

"Syd," he said, hurt flashing in his green eyes. "How could you forget our honeymoon?"

Sydney's eyes widened at the memory. Of course. That secluded little restaurant in Jamaica. It had been kind of a dive, actually, but the food had been amazing and the music had been even better. The fact that they'd been among the only customers hadn't stopped the reggae band from playing nearly till dawn. "Another song for the lovers," the singer had said more than once.

"Not just lovers," Michael had murmured in her ear, dipping her low. "Newlyweds."

They'd been so happy.

"You're right," she said, laying her head on his chest and planting a loving kiss there. "How could I have forgotten? God, that was amazing, Michael. That whole trip. Why haven't we ever gone back there?"

"I don't know," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Maybe because there's no way it cold ever be as perfect as it was then."

She smiled, turning to kiss his lips. "We'll go on our twenty-fifth anniversary."

He returned her smile. "You mean that's not where you want to escape to after we turn in your mother?" 

Sydney's smile faded. Why had he had to bring _that_ up? "Not Jamaica, no."

"No?" he questioned.

A sliver of a smile crossed Sydney's face. "No," she decided. "Somewhere more secluded."

"Mmm," he said, giving her a soft kiss. "Sounds amazing."

She settled her head back on his chest again. It did sound amazing. She was just so scared.

"It will happen for us, Syd," he whispered. "Someday, we'll have the island."

She closed his eyes, hoping desperately that his words were true.


	24. One Night in Paradise

****

Chapter Twenty-four: Once Night in Paradise

Sydney stood at the bedroom mirror that evening, slipping a pair of diamonds into her ears. In spite of her worries, she was really looking forward to the evening ahead of her. It had been so long since she and Michael had gone out.

He stepped behind her then, kissing the neck that her upswept hair had left exposed. "You are so beautiful."

She turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a kiss that left them both breathless. "You look amazing, too." She let her hands flutter across the fabric of his white button-down shirt, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle. He really did look gorgeous, dressed more casually than she usually saw him in his untucked shirt, khakis, and sandals; she wore a strappy blue dress in the deepest shade of midnight blue imaginable. "I think tonight's going to be incredible."

"Me, too," he said with a smile. "Shall we?"

"Absolutely," she said, slipping her arm through his. She caught a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror, and she was struck by a sudden memory of the two of them on their wedding day. She'd worn a simple but expensive white dress-- Irina had picked up the bill, insisting she spare no expense-- and Michael had worn a white button down and khakis, just like now. Just the two of them, a private, perfect wedding on the beach.

They didn't look so different now. A few new lines around the eyes, maybe. But oh, they'd been through so much since then. They'd been with the Organization less than four months on their wedding day, had done little more than go on simple reconnaissance missions for her mother. Now, they'd done far worse, had given out orders to do far worse, knowing full well what the Organization was and what it was capable of. They'd given up their souls, really. But now, gazing at the two of them in the mirror, Sydney selfishly knew that it had all been worth it. She would have done it all again, done far worse to be with the man beside her.

"I love you, Michael," she said, lacing her fingers through his. "So much."

"I love you too, baby," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Let's have an incredible night, okay?"

And it was incredible. They ate at a gorgeous restaurant on the beach and drank too much champagne. They danced until the sun came up, and afterwards, they stumbled back to their house with no intention of letting the night end any time soon.

"God, that was amazing, Mike," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck as soon as they were through the front door.

"Mmm," he murmured, and she shivered as his lips traveled down her neck. "The night is young, Sydney."

"I think it's morning, actually," she giggled.

"Does it matter?" he breathed.

"Actually, I think the two of you might need your sleep."

Sydney screamed as she jumped away from her husband, gazing up into the face of the last man she'd expected to see. A man who only would have shown up there if things had gone terribly wrong.

Her father.


	25. Change In Plans

****

Chapter Twenty-Five: Change in Plans

"There's been a change in plans, Mr. and Mrs. Vaughn."  


It was only then that Sydney realized that her dad was holding a gun, as if he were afraid the two of them might be dangerous.

"Why?" Sydney gasped. "What happened? Are the kids--"

"They're fine, Mrs. Vaughn," Jack interrupted curtly. "Except for the fact that your son is quite under your mother's thumb. Is that your doing, or hers?"

"Hers," Sydney said without thinking. "I mean, I don't know, I never told Jack anything bad about his grandmother, but--"

"What happened, Jack?" Sydney felt relief wash over her as Michael's voice cut through the darkened room. She reached for his hand, and he pulled her to him, his arm firmly around her waist. Her protector, her guardian angel.

"I--" her father hesitated, and Sydney regarded him curiously. "I did a foolish thing today."

"What?" Sydney felt hysterical. No escape, never an escape…

"I was parked across from your house," Jack said, concern knitting his brow. "Your children came out into the yard, slithering along the side of the house like they were trying to avoid being seen. Playing a game, I suppose. Then Emily went running back into the house, and I thought, 'This is my chance. He's alone, the nanny's watching Emily--'"

"Your chance to what?" Sydney cried, and she felt Michael's arm tighten around her waist.

Jack sighed. "I only wanted to speak to him."

"Jack, what happened?" The urgency in Michael's voice was almost enough to make Sydney completely lose it.

"He saw me, and he fell backwards out of the tree he was climbing--"

"Is he all right?" Sydney knew her voice was practically at a shriek, but she couldn't help it.

"He's fine, Mrs. Vaughn." The annoyed look on her father's face confused Sydney. Why was he still calling her Mrs. Vaughn? Didn't he know they were on the same side? "Fine enough, in fact, to scamper right into the house and call and tell his loving grandmother that a strange man was watching him."

Sydney gasped. "Jack was acting so strange before we left-- Mom must have told him something was up! She must have told him to let her know if he saw anything suspicious!"

"Did she, Mrs. Vaughn?" Jack's voice was as hard and old as Sydney had ever heard it. And that was saying something. "Or did you?"

Sydney gasped as he aimed his gun at her.

"Hey, Jack, hold on!" Oh, God, now Michael sounded downright panicked. Sydney didn't know if she could handle it if Michael panicked. "Sydney would never do anything to invalidate the deal you offered her."

"Wouldn't she?" Jack challenged. "How well do you know your wife, Mr. Vaughn?"

Sydney heard Michael's breath catch in his throat. "As well as I know myself."

"Do you? Wasn't it only a week a go that you told her you didn't know who she was anymore?"

Sydney felt a sob escape her lips. This wasn't happening, couldn't be happening.

"Maybe she told you she'd take my deal," Jack continued. "And then used the first opportunity-- used your own son-- to sabotage me. Irina would not have hesitated to kill me if she would have found me, you know that, don't you?"

"I swear, Dad," Sydney said, trying desperately to keep her voice from shaking and failing miserably. "I would never do anything to put you in danger."

"The hell you wouldn't." Jack's gun was still pointed at her, and Sydney felt herself sag against Michael. "You put mine and countless other lives in danger every time you carried out one of Irina Derevko's orders. I can't even say how many have died at the hands of your hired henchmen."

"Dad, I swear." Sydney had never imagined she would have to beg her father for her life. It felt unreal, like a dream. A nightmare. "Will you please just tell me what happened? If Mom knows something's up-- oh, God, she must have taken the children somewhere!"

"Isn't that what you want?" Jack asked coldly. "For your kids to grow up safe within the Organization?"

"No!" Sydney gasped. "No, Dad. We never wanted to bring them into this life."

"If that were true," Jack responded. "You wouldn't have had children at all."

The statement made Sydney's blood run cold. It was true, the births of Jack and Emily hadn't exactly been accidental, but-- "We never thought we'd be with the Organization this long," Sydney struggled to explain.

"That may have been true when Jack was born," her father allowed. "But by the time Emily came along, you must have had a pretty good idea of what your lives were going to be like."

"Just tell me what's happened to them," Sydney whimpered.

"They've been taken somewhere safe," Jack said shortly. 

"What about Emily?" Sydney gasped. "She's--"

"Those taking care of her have been alerted to her condition, and they have the appropriate medications," Jack snapped. "She's not made of glass, and maybe if you didn't treat her as if she was, Jack wouldn't be listening to his grandmother more than he listens to his own parents."

"That's not fair, Jack," Michael cut in.

"Perhaps not," Jack allowed. "But I believe that I didn't make your choices clear enough before. Before, I instructed you to do as I said or face possible future imprisonment. I'll make things a little easier for you this time."

He turned his attention back to Sydney, his gun pointed directly at her. "You will do exactly as I say. Or I will kill you." 


	26. Keep Playing the Game

****

Chapter Twenty-Six: Keep Playing the Game

Sydney stood in front of the full length mirror, smiling as she adjusted the shoulder strap of her sleek black bathing suit. Michael loved her in this bathing suit. She loved the way he looked at her when she wore it.

It had been more than a year since Sydney's father had held a gun on her. More than a year since she and Michael had been given their island.

The hardest part had been getting her father to trust them, getting him to put the damned gun down. For one wild moment, Sydney had considered knocking it out of his hand and holding it on _him_, letting him beg her for mercy for once. Sydney wasn't a particularly evil person; she knew that, deep down. But she adored power, loved to be in control. If she were honest with herself, she would admit that was really why she had joined the Organization. To regain some of the power she'd lost so long ago. To take control of her mother's empire, build it up, and then crush it, crushing, along with it, the one woman who had never been out of control for a moment in her life.

In the end, it was her father who helped her do that. He had taken her and Michael to a CIA safe house and taken their statement, listened for hours with a tape recorder as they detailed everything they knew about the Organization. And then they'd waited while Jack and the CIA had infiltrated Organization headquarters, arresting dozens of agents for their crimes against the United States.

They hadn't arrested Brooke Banning. In spite of the fact that she'd been telling Irina about her meetings with Jack, the information she had given him had been enough to lead him to Sydney and Michael. For that, she was spared.

And they hadn't arrested Irina Derevko. They hadn't been able to find her.

After the Organization had been taken down, Jack had done what he'd promised. Done his best for Michael and Sydney. He'd set the two of them and the children up on a remote island, just like they'd wanted, on the condition that they did not leave without the consent of the United States government. 

Honestly, they don't mind. They are happy there, managing a tiny little restaurant called, quite simply, Paradise. It's not the fanciest little place, but the food is amazing. And if you come there on your honeymoon, the band will play till dawn.

Things are mostly blissful for the Vaughn family. But Sydney still worries.

Worries because there is no hospital on the island. Oh, there's a clinic, and Emily has been getting along beautifully lately, anyway. But Sydney is still so protective of her precious little girl. Old habits die hard.

She worries about little Jack, too. Even though he's had more than a year to deal with the changes in his life, he is still not himself. The teachers at his new school, the island's tiny little school, don't call Sydney and Michael to tell them that he's been acting up, that he's brilliant but unruly. They call because he's so quiet, so moody. He lashes out at the other kids when they try to make friends. He spends lunches and recesses by himself. At home, he spends a lot of time alone in his room, though Emily lures him out from time to time. And he loves the ocean. In the evenings, after the dinner crowd has left the restaurant-- there's never much of a crowd, anyway-- Michael comes home to collect his son, and the two of them take long swims while Sydney and Emily watch from the beach. Sydney worries about them going too far out. But she tries not to let it bother her, because when they come back to shore, Jack has a smile on his face, and for a minute or two, Sydney doesn't worry.

Until she thinks about the fact that SD-6 is still alive and well, and that after everything, she will not have a part in taking it down. It's someone else's battle to fight now. She tries not to think about that too much, because it's a thought that makes her ache in all the worst ways.

The thing that worries her the most, though, of course, is the idea that her mother is still alive somewhere, just waiting to make her move. There is no doubt in Sydney's mind that she will find them one day and destroy their fragile little paradise. She tries not to think about that too much, either. Tries to fill her days with more than waiting for the other shoe to drop.

There is an angel that shares her bed with her at night, and he makes it a little easier for her to do this. He has sandy brown hair, green eyes, and a way of looking at her that makes all of her worries disappear. He looks at her like that now as she approaches him in the afternoon sun, lowering his sunglasses to admire the way she looks in the black swimsuit she wears just for him. The kids are at school, and the restaurant is closed till evening.

"We should make margaritas," she suggests. She starts for the beach chair next to his, but he will have none of that. He pulls her down to his lap, and she breaks into the wide, dimpled grin that only he can bring to her face.

"You are so beautiful," he murmurs, giving her a long, luxurious kiss.

She smiles, smoothing back his hair. He wears it a little longer these days. "So you don't want margaritas?"

"I want you," he responds, drawing her in for another kiss.

"Good," she whispers. She rests her head against his chest, feeling the way she always feels when she's near him.

Safe. Protected. Loved.

And he makes all of her worries and fears go away, lets her know that for all of the wrong choices she's made in her life, she will never regret her choice to spend her life with him.

He makes everything worth it.

Makes her want to keep playing the game.

****

The End


End file.
